Hope & Sacrifice
by Liberty Sue
Summary: AU. Injured Marine Peeta Mellark returns home from Afghanistan a changed and broken man looking for refuge. An Everlark story of love, redemption and hope.
1. Chapter 1

He likes the feel of the dough beneath his hands. The velvety soft texture molding under his fingers as he kneads it to the desired softness and pliability. Such a simple, mundane task, he thinks, as he stands hunched over the marble counters in the back of his father's bakery, the soft whirl of the mixers groaning in the background lulling him into calmness. A calmness he hasn't felt for any great length of time for the past six and a half years.

Peeta Mellark hadn't wanted to spend his life in the bakery. Didn't want to be stuck in the back-water town of Twelve Oaks, OH where he grew up. But as he watches the snow falling outside the window and listens to the soft baritone of his father humming along to the radio, he's glad to be home. He needed something to distract the demons haunting him night and day. And since his demons usually played under the hot Afghanistan sun, he figured cold, dreary, snow covered Ohio was as good a place as any to quell the infestation of bombs, bullets and burning babies residing in his brain.

"I need to run out for a minute, Peet. You going to be ok here alone?" his dad asks quietly.

He's ashamed that the gentle hand laying on his shoulder startled him and caused him to clutch his fists so tightly he's sure he's drawing blood. What shames him more, though, is the fact that his father felt the need to ask him in the first place. But, he knows he had to ask. He knows he's a shell of his former self. Most days he doesn't even recognize the broken man staring back at him in the mirror.

"It's fine, Dad. I can handle it." He places the dough he's been working in a mold, covering it with a towel to rise and wipes his hands on the white apron covering his hips and thighs.

It's been just under four months since an IED explosion ended Sergeant Peeta Mellark's military career and irrevocably changed his life forever. He's been home for exactly 3 days and hasn't stepped outside his father's house except to come to the bakery to work.

"_I _know you can handle it, Peeta. I'm just worried about you. You haven't been yourself in a long time. I was hoping being home would help ease your mind."

"I haven't been myself for so long I've forgotten who I was… or am, Dad." He shrugs, not knowing what to say. It's something else the war has stolen from him, his ability to communicate effectively. Something that was so innate to his personality ripped from him along with the lower half of his leg and his guys…and that little girl…

A shiver runs through him as the unbidden image of the small body being ripped from his arms by the blast as he tried to carry her to safety tears through his mind.

Marcus Mellark watches his son's knuckles turn white as he fiercely clutches the countertop. He knows war changes people and what his youngest son went through in that blasted war would change even the most hardened man. But Peeta had gone in as a good-natured, outgoing person. And really, he'd been just a boy when he enlisted. An idealist who just wanted to make the world a safer place. When he'd come back, injured and broken in spirit, Marcus had hoped he would return to that happy, personable person after some time in the military hospital while he recovered his body, but he's still struggling so much. He's still so bleak, sullen and moody.

No longer the easy-going boy but a broken man.

It scares Marcus to see the darkness in his once jovial eyes.

"You are my son, and you're home. Where you belong." He gathers his hat and coat, slipping them on slowly.

He wants to say more. He wants to give comfort, but he knows words are not what Peeta needs.

Peeta watches his father leave. He sees the look in his eyes. Recognizes it. Hates it. He doesn't want pity. He just wants to live.

Forget.

He just hasn't figured out how.

The blast of cold air helps. So different from the dry, stifling heat of the desert. A constant reminder that he is indeed home, no matter how much the flashbacks insist otherwise.

He tells himself he'll get through this. Just like he got through the hell of war. Just like he got through the intense rehab and therapy of learning to live without part of his leg.

He'll get through it to honor his fallen brothers. He'll live because they can't. He will find a way.

Today he'll start by frosting a batch of cookies that have finished cooling on the racks along the wall. He always enjoyed this part of the baking process. The final touches. He supposes it's the artist in him yearning to get out, to put his own unique mark on the process. As a teenager the job was officially passed to him when his father saw his talent. It made him feel important and needed. He was finally a vital part of the business. And he did it well and with pride.

But this isn't what he had wanted from life. He dreamed big and wide. He thought by being a Marine he would see the world and make a difference.

Instead he saw the underbelly of the world as a pawn in someone's game of dominance and sacrificed a good portion of his soul.

Looking down, Peeta see's his hands shaking and strips of icing are globbing on a cookie instead of in neat lines as he had started. He shuts those thoughts down immediately and throws the bag of icing against the wall with a loud splat hard enough to break the tied bag so the green icing splatters in a pattern on the wall like a bad Jackson Pollock copy.

_Fuck. _

He's in the middle of wiping down the wall and eating the ruined cookie when the door chime rings announcing a customer. He'd really hoped he wouldn't have to face anyone from town today. He just needs a few more days to acclimate to being home before he see's someone he knows…and he knows everyone from town.

He wipes the frosting on a damp cloth and tosses it into the sink as he makes his way to the front, his gait heavy and uneven from the prosthesis.

He doesn't know exactly who he expected to see when he came through the door, but he's sure it wasn't her.

Katniss Everdeen.

She stands at the counter rubbing her hands together trying to bring some warmth to them.

It's clear that she didn't expect to see him this morning either. She blinks a couple of times as if not believing what she is seeing.

"Peeta?" Her voice is barely above a whisper but it raises slightly in question at the end. He didn't think the sound of her voice would affect him so much after so long away, but it does.

Warmth spreads through him and gathers in his chest.

He had thought of her over the years he'd been away. She'd been his school boy crush. Katniss Everdeen with the golden voice and silver eyes that always saw right through him. He would conjure her on the nights he couldn't sleep. When gun-fire and bombs could be heard in the distance, he would try to bring the timber of her voice to his mind to ease him to sleep. As the years wore on, though, it became increasingly hard to remember what she sounded like, and the loss was just one more thing he added to the list of things the war had taken.

But, here she is, nervously fiddling with the braid falling over her shoulder, three feet from him.

Katniss Everdeen.

"I..I didn't know you were back. Your dad never said anything."

He's not sure where his voice went, because the one that falls from his lips is not the one he's used to. This one is too high and faltering.

"I just got…" he has to clear his throat and try again or he's sure he's going to die of embarrassment for sounding like a pre-pubescent boy. "I, ah, just got home a few days ago."

They watch each other silently. Neither knowing exactly what to say to the other.

Peeta roughly rubs the back of his neck. _This is ridiculous, _he thinks. He's known her almost his entire life. He is going to be 27 years old in 3 months. He's faced gunfire and mortars and snipers. Why did she still have such an effect on him?

He clears his throat, willing it to come out with some dignity.

"So, yeah, what can I do for you, Katniss?"

She seems to shake herself from her thoughts and make her smoky eyes focus on him.

"Oh, ha..um, I'm here to pick up the bread…for my, ah, bookstore…the cafe?"

He has to think a minute. Mentally run through everything in the back and he vaguely remembers the bag of loaves set aside for 'Chapter Twelve.'

The smile that crossed his face is probably the brightest he's been able to muster for years.

"Chapter Twelve? Clever. I'll be right back." He steps into the kitchen and takes a deep breath, banging his head against the metal shelves lining the wall. _Get a hold of yourself, Mellark! _He chastises himself. He's acting like he's 13 again.

"So, bookstore, huh? I didn't know…Dad never said anything. Do you own, manage or work?" He asks when he steps back into the front. He's thankful for the composure he's found.

He doesn't know why he searches her hand for a wedding band as she reaches to take the bag from his arms. He can barely care for himself, let alone a woman…even if that woman is the one that has stared in the majority of his fantasies over the years. But, he can't help the relief that washes through him when he finds her finger bare.

"Own. Sae and I went in together after Dad…,"she trails off. He remembers his father mentioning Devon Everdeen dying a few years back in a mining accident, and he wonders if she was the beneficiary of a settlement with the mine.

He doesn't ask.

"I'll have to come over and check it out one day. Sae always made the best chili and stews around."

"Still does," she says with a small smile. "It's good to see you home, Peeta. I…" She stops suddenly and he can see the apprehension in her eyes. He likes the way her fingers unconsciously worry one of the buttons of her coat.

"I, um, worried about you over there. Every…um…every day."

Her hand tentatively reaches out to touch his arm and he is rendered speechless. He didn't even think he ever registered to her, much less that she worried about him…every day.

She's about to say something else when a loud crash echoes through the bakery, startling Peeta enough to have him jumping back from her touch and his bad leg slipping out from underneath him.

He lands with a thud on his good knee.

"Fuck," he growls. And then he remembers Katniss standing above him and he becomes both embarrassed and ashamed at the same time.

Shame seems to be his go to emotion today.

"I'm sorry, Katniss…it's the leg…still getting used to it," he says pulling his pant leg up enough for her to get a look at the contraption at the end.

"Oh. Right. I heard about that." Of course she did.

She holds her hand out to help him up. He takes her small hand in his and has half a mind to drag her down to him instead.

"I see your dad just about every day. I ask about you."

"You do?" That high-pitched, pre-pubescent voice is back.

She nods her head but looks away. Pink colors her cheeks and he thinks it's the sweetest thing he's ever seen. He'd like to put that color in her cheeks every day.

"Sorry, Peet," Marcus says rushing into the room. "I knocked a mixing bowl off the counter...Oh, hello Katniss. Here for Sae's bread?"

Their hands are still clasped when she nods her head in response. Marcus glances between them, a smile creeping into his features.

"Thanks," Peeta whispers, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. She looks down at their entwined hands and her face flushes again. Peeta smiles. Marcus relaxes.

"So, Katniss, what's Sae's special today? I might need something for lunch."

"Sausage and Lentil soup today, I think."

"Mmm, my favorite," he says, rubbing his round belly. A plan formulates in his mind. "Peeta, you'd love it. Doesn't that sound good?"

"Yeah, Dad, it does."

"Maybe we'll see you for lunch, Katniss," Marcus says hopefully. He would really like to get Peeta out of the bakery today, and by judging by what he saw between the two youngsters just now he thinks Katniss may just be enough of a reason get him to go.

"I hope so." She turns to Peeta again and places her hand on his arm again. She's much more demonstrative than he remembers. He's glad. He likes the feel of her hands on him.

"It was nice seeing you, Peeta, I'm glad you're home."

"Be careful on these streets, Katniss. They're still slick," Marcus calls when he walks her to the door, holding it open for her.

"Pretty girl, that Katniss," he says when he turns back to find Peeta watching her cross the street completely captivated by the sway of her hips.

Marcus watches Peeta's mood sour after Katniss leaves the bakery. Like a blind being drawn, his eyes darken and his shoulders slump. It would be comical if it wasn't so sad.

They work in virtual silence for the rest of the morning, only speaking when needed. It's so different from the noisy cacophony that filled the bakery when all three of his boys were here. Back when they still lived and worked with him. Before college, marriage and war.

He misses the noise.

"So, Katniss comes in a lot?" Peeta questions out of the blue as Marcus slides a tray of artisan breads from the oven onto a cooling rack.

"Couple times a week, I'd say. We have a contract for their sandwich breads, so either she or Sae comes in almost every day." He eyes his son, who is dutifully making himself busy trying not to look overly interested. But he knows his son and he knows when his interest has been piqued.

He also knows that Katniss Everdeen is someone who has always held his youngest boy's attention.

"She's done quite well for herself. Very tenacious, that one. Works hard to provide for her family." He looks at his watch and smiles. "Looks like we should head over for some lunch. It's early, but we can beat the lunch crowd."

Peeta only nods his head, but Marcus doesn't miss the light that flashes in his eyes.

His leg aches. Peeta reaches down to rub the spot where the prosthesis attaches to his leg. He's not entirely sure about winter as far as his leg is concerned. The cold seems to send bolts of icy pain up his leg. He can only hope the longer he's here the more he'll get used to it.

That embarrassing fall didn't help either. Now his good leg aches as well.

God, he fell in front of Katniss. Of all people.

He imagines she wanted to laugh. Most people would. But Katniss is too reserved and polite to ever make fun. She probably found him weak. He certainly feels weak. Like half a man.

He eyes the street out the window. Snow is still falling, although it's slowed considerably. He pulls a sweatshirt over his head and grabs his cane.

He hates the idea of walking through town with a cane like an old man, but he hates the idea of face-planting in the middle of the street even more.

"It's pretty cold out…might want a jacket," his dad says lightly.

"Nah, I like the cold."

It annoys Peeta how much Marcus hovers as they cross the street and walk to Chapter Twelve like he's waiting to catch him should he fall. Which, in all likelihood, is a very real possibility, but it still annoys the fuck out of him.

He's not a child anymore. He doesn't need help. Doesn't need his daddy to rescue him anymore.

He knows he shouldn't let his father's kindness irritate him so much. He is just being…well, his dad. But he can't deny the aggravation that is pulsating through him when Marcus' hand flies out to steady him when his damn bad leg slips a little on a patch of slush.

"Damn it, Dad, I'm fine. Leave me alone!" he says much more gruffly than intended. Shame fills him again. He knows his therapist at the naval hospital would just say he's simply angry with himself and the situation and not actually at his father, but it doesn't make him feel any better at his outburst.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he mumbles immediately. He's thankful there's no one else on the sidewalk.

"No, no. You're right, son. How are you going to learn, right?" Marcus tries to plaster a smile back on his face, but it falls flat. He wishes he knew how to help Peeta.

A blast of warmth and the delicious smell of books, coffee, spices and fresh-baked bread assault their senses as they swing the door of the Café open.

Peeta feels a smile tug at his mouth.

The smile blooms full as he watches her descend the iron spiral staircase that must lead to the offices above.

He shakes the snow from his hair to keep from staring. Because that's all he wants to do - stare - at the way her charcoal sweater hugs the curves of her body over the tight black leggings underneath. He doesn't remember her having such lush curves in school. She was always so thin and frail. The difference between a girl's body versus a woman's, he supposes.

His mouth waters.

Peeta's attention is diverted by a tiny wisp of a girl who has attached herself to his father's leg.

"Mr. Marcus! Mr. Marcus! Did you bring me a cookie? Did you?" she says eagerly springing up and down on her tip-toes in frantic anticipation, brown curls bouncing down her back with every movement.

His father's ruddy cheeks rise with a brilliant smile for the tiny girl.

"Well, I don't know, sugar…let me check my pockets," he says as he makes a show of checking all the pockets of his wool coat. He pulls out a small bag and winks at Katniss who is now standing just beyond the bouncing little girl. "Oh, what do we have here?"

He carefully unwraps the confection and places it in his palm to show the girl. Her grey eyes are wide as if beholding a secret treasure.

"It's so bootiful." Awe and wonder fill her little voice. It makes Peeta smile even more. Her hands tentatively reach for the delicately decorated sugar cookie Peeta had decorated this morning. "Can I eat it?"

Marcus lets out a booming laugh, clearly smitten with this beautiful child.

"Of course you can, sugar! My son, Peeta, made it just for you."

The girl's attention shoots to Peeta for the first time and he kneels down on his good knee to get closer to her level.

"Just for me?" she whispers. His heart swells at the reverent way she looks at him and then the cookie in her hand. Her little fingers touch the scratchy stubble of his jaw. He nods his head and smiles at her. "Thank you, Mr. Peeta."

Affection, love and light bloom in her eyes, in only the way a child's can.

It's then that he sees it. He looks up at Katniss' smiling face and back at the girl who is smiling adoringly at him. His smile falters only briefly.

"You're welcome…"

"Hope," Katniss finishes for him. "This is Hope, my daughter."

* * *

_I've wanted to tell this story for a very long time. I hope you enjoy it._

_Your reviews are always welcome and appreciated!  
_

_Follow me on Tumblr for updates/sneak peeks and other nonsense for this story and my other Everlark story "Mine" : libertysueisstardusttoo dot tumblr dot com  
_


	2. Chapter 2

Katniss enjoys her mornings alone in the offices above the store when Hope is in school. She shakes her head in wonderment at that thought. She still can't believe her baby is in kindergarten. How is that possible? Where did the time go? It seems like only yesterday she came home from college pregnant and reeling from a broken heart, and only yesterday that she stood over her father's grave just a few weeks after that.

What a horrible time that had been. She knows if it hadn't been for her sheer iron will, her friends, and the baby growing inside her she would have drowned from the enormity of it all. Losing her father had nearly killed her. If ever she had needed him it was then. She was alone and pregnant.

And then there was her asshole college boyfriend…what a huge good-for-nothing mistake he'd been. He hadn't wanted anything to do with her or the baby after she told him.

She'd spent days on Gale and Madge's couch lost in grief. They, as well as her sister, Prim, and occasionally their mother, had taken care of her through everything. Kept her functioning.

But it was her Uncle Haymitch who made her get up and take control of her life. He'd been the one to give her a swift kick in the ass, and had planted the idea of using the money she'd inherited from her father's settlement with the mine to open Chapter Twelve. He had been the one to motivate her to leave the couch and make something of herself. He still comes in almost every day to nag her and check on Hope.

She worked long and hard with their long-time family friend, Sae, to get the store off the ground. She spent hours every day planning layouts and menus, buying supplies and books and hiring employees. If it weren't for the intense hours and sheer volume of work it takes to open a business, she would have surely drowned under the weight of her grief.

But she had to do it. Every day her belly grew she knew she had to provide the best life for her child that she could. She had to be strong for Hope. She would or she'd die trying.

It was hard the first few years, but as she watches her vibrant daughter hop up and down in front of Marcus Mellark, she knows it was all worth it. She's a happy, content little girl who isn't afraid to show the world just how wonderful she thinks life is.

The cookies Marcus brings her only makes Hope glow all the more brighter.

Katniss is grateful for her friendship with Marcus Mellark. She's not entirely sure her business would have taken off without his help. He was always so friendly and quick with advice. They quickly developed a solid business relationship as well as an easy personal friendship. She just plain likes him. It also doesn't hurt that he is well liked in the community and makes an excellent ally in business, either.

And Hope absolutely adores him.

Marcus made a point the other day of telling Katniss that Peeta makes Hope a special cookie every day before he makes the rest of the cookies for the store. Each one has been extravagant in its design, each one unique in its own right. To Katniss' mind it seems like he must spend hours every morning just decorating Hope's cookie, they're so richly detailed in color and design. But she knows he can't possibly do that because every time she goes into the bakery there are trays of fine cookies on display. She isn't sure if she's imagining it either, but she swears the cookie that always finds its way into Hope's eager hand is always just that much more detailed. Just a little fancier. Just a little more beautiful than all the rest.

Today's cookie is no exception. The design of the snowflake is simple yet magnificent. He's swept a fine layer of delicate, white frosting over the entire cookie, as if it's been painted with a fine brush, and then piped fine white lines and curves outlining the snowflake's unique design, and finally accented it with tiny, silver candy balls at each point. When Katniss looks closer at the cookie she realizes the white piping has tiny candy flakes covering it, making each line shimmer in the light like snow.

Peeta's cookies belong on the cover of a magazine.

Hope asks Marcus the same question she's asked every day since Peeta started making her the cookies, "Can I eat it?" and Marcus replies with the same jovial belly laugh and "Of course you can!" for the little girl as he jiggles her on his knee while he eats his lunch. Alone.

Katniss hasn't seen Peeta since that first day. She wants to ask Marcus how he is. The words are perched on her tongue even now as she watches her daughter laugh and giggle with the red-cheeked older man. Instead, she walks to the front window and looks over at the bakery, wondering.

He'd looked well that day. Sad, maybe, but well. He's gotten a lot bigger since high school. Taller, wider. More solid and rugged. Six years in the desert will do that to a man.

She can't help but remember the boy he'd been. They weren't really friends. They shared a lot of classes together and often worked on projects together, but they didn't travel in the same circles. Peeta was part of the more popular group. The rich, town kids who excelled at sports and life. But he'd always been kind to her when his other friends would ignore her. He always seemed to have a hello and a genuine smile when he would see her in the halls. And she can't deny she'd always held a soft spot for the way his blue eyes sparkled when he spoke, or the way the ends of his blonde hair curled just so when it got too long.

"You should come by later, Katniss," Marcus says coming up behind her and causing her face to flush at being caught. She busies herself rearranging the books in the front window, hoping he won't notice the far away look she knows is in her eyes.

He does.

She turns to him, making a valiant attempt to keep her eyes on him instead of drifting out the window and toward the blue awnings of the bakery.

"How is he, Marcus? He seems…different."

"I suppose that's what war does to a man," he says sadly, and then adds, "but I think it would do him good to see an old friend."

"You seem worried." She can see it in his eyes as they flick out the window. He nods his head as he crosses his thickly muscled arms over his massive chest. Katniss had always thought the phrase gentle giant described the elder Mellark to a tee.

"I guess he's still adjusting to being home and to the leg. I know it's hard on him. But, please, Katniss, stop in anytime…he needs…something." Katniss only nods, not sure what she can give him, she only knows that she would like to see him again even if it's just to reassure herself that he's home and safe…it doesn't have anything at all to do with the spark she felt at seeing him again.

* * *

"Mommy, how come Peeta doesn't come see me when Mr. Marcus does?"

"I don't know, chickie, maybe he's just busy. I bet he has a lot of other cookies to decorate," she says, pulling playfully on one of Hope's springy chocolate curls falling down her back. Hope seems to consider this and accept it before disappearing into her room.

Katniss had gone to the bakery earlier in the morning on the premise of getting the breads for the Café, but she hadn't seen Peeta. Marcus had said he hadn't come in yet. The sad look in Marcus' eyes spoke volumes, though, and Katniss had spent another morning worrying over a man she hardly knew.

"Mommy, I want to see Peeta. I made something for him at school today," Hope says when she returns. Her tone and stance resolute, a demeanor her mother recognizes all too well in her daughter, and Katniss knows she won't relent until she sees Peeta. Even at barely 5 years old, Hope Everdeen knows her own mind, and when she wants something she's like a dog with a bone - she won't give up on it.

"What did you make him? Can I see?"

Hope pulls the paper man from behind her back and hands it to her mother, pride oozing from her diamond eyes. It's a paper cutout of a man dressed in camo with blue eyes and blonde hair.

"I made Peeta. Mr. Marcus said he was a ma…ma…mareene?" Her eyebrows raise in question, making sure she got the word right. When Katniss nods her head she continues. "My teacher helped me a little…just a little. I did all the coloring and stuff."

"Wow, chickie, this is wonderful. It looks like you worked really hard on it," she says, stroking her head.

"I did! Just like you say he works hard on my cookies. Can we go see him, Mommy, please, please, can we?" Katniss couldn't say no if she wanted to. But she doesn't want to. She wants to see Peeta just as much as Hope does.

"Ok. Just let me finish a few things here and we'll go see if he's working today."

It's cold and snowy as they make their way across the street to the bakery. It's the kind of day Katniss loves. People tend to stay indoors on days like this, and they practically have the town to themselves. It's a day where everything is still and quiet and the snow falls in fat flakes from the sky. The crunch of Hope's snow boots seems to echo over the stillness.

The blast of warmth carries a scent so sweet and strong Katniss has to stifle a gasp when she opens the door to the bakery. She's always thought the bakery aroma would make a great "home" scented candle if they could just find a way to capture it. It always fills her with happiness when she walks through the door.

As soon as Hope spots Marcus she makes a bee-line straight for him and jumps into his waiting arms. Katniss lifts her hand in greeting to Marcus who now has his hands full of Hope.

"Oh my goodness, sugar! What's got you all excited?" Marcus says with his booming, laughing voice.

"I got a present for Peeta! Is he here?" Her eyes wander the front room as she bounces in his arms, her energy filling the room with every giggle and smile. Sometimes Katniss wonders where she came from. How such a little bundle of joy and happiness ever came from her she'll never know.

Marcus' mouth turns down briefly before he turns to Katniss.

"I think he went out back to take some trash to the dumpster. Why don't you run out there and see if he's there, Katniss? I'm sure he'd like to see this little cutie. I'll just stay here with my favorite girl."

With a tilt of his head, Marcus' eyes urge her to go. Plead with her, really.

Reluctantly, she turns to go, but says over her shoulder, "No more cookies, Hope!" and gets an "Aw, Mom!" in return.

Katniss stops in front of the mirror that sits above the small sink in the back of the kitchen and tucks a couple of stray hairs that have fallen out of her braid back behind her ears. She feels silly checking herself and feels even sillier when she reaches into her pocket and pulls a tube of lip gloss out and coats her lips.

_It's cold out_, she tells herself, _I don't want my lips to chap_. She rolls her eyes at herself, because even she knows she's lying.

The cold air hits her like a brick when she steps into the ally behind the bakery and she pulls her black parka more tightly around herself. But her coat does little to ease the chill that invades her when she sees him standing off to the side of the property staring into the woods that back the ally. She eases the door closed so as not to startle him.

He's not wearing a jacket. The white thermal Henley and apron are the only things protecting him from the whipping wind and swirling snow. If not for his blue jeans he would blend in with the white of his surroundings with ease. As she steps closer she sees his blonde hair is slightly coated with snow.

_How long has he been standing here?_

Her gloved hand reaches out to him of its own accord and rests on his trembling arm.

"Peeta, you're shive…"

His jolt sends her stumbling backwards with a squeak of surprise. Somehow, he manages to catch her before her legs slip out from under her and she hits the ground. His face is inches from hers as he cradles her in his strong arms. She watches as his gaze drifts down to her mouth and his tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips.

Something coils deep inside her. A yearning she can't suppress. It spreads through her like warm water through every inch of her being.

His deep shudder brings her back to herself. She can feel how cold he is; she can feel him shivering as he rights her.

"Peeta, what are you doing? You're shivering. It's 20 degrees out and you're not wearing a coat." Her arms run up and down the length of his muscled arms trying to bring some warmth to him. She watches as his eyes focus on her and he seems to return from whatever place he's been lost in.

"I was just thinking…I like the cold." His teeth chatter as he tries to speak and his lips are tinged slightly purple. She brings her hand up and runs her thumb over his bottom lip and then up and over his red cheeks, stunning herself at the intimacy of the move. From the look in his eyes he's just as stunned as she and she pulls her hand back quickly and begins rubbing his arms again.

He can't speak. Not when she's this close and rubbing him…and touching his mouth and face. Even with her hand covered with a glove he can still feel the heat of her and he just wants to melt into her. He knows he must look stupid because he feels it, standing out here in the snow, wet and shivering.

He had just wanted to get out of the warm, dry heat of the bakery for a minute, and the snow called to him. All week it had been a chore to just get out of bed. But he did it. He pulled himself out of bed every morning specifically to make Hope a cookie. Sometimes he feels a little silly spending so much time decorating a cookie for a five-year-old. A five-year-old he's met once. One who belongs to someone else. But it makes him feel something, even if it's a small something; at least he's feeling something other than the consuming grief he feels swamping him every other second of his life. It makes him feel good to know he's made a little girl smile.

His dad has to tell him how much she smiles, because he hasn't found the courage to go see it for himself yet.

His mind had been wandering as he put the finishing touches on a tray of cheese buns when the flashes hit. He doesn't know what triggers them sometimes. It really can be anything, it seems. But all of a sudden he's back on foot patrol with sniper bullets flying and IED's blowing all around him. It's been hard to keep the images at bay since he first saw Hope. Her dark hair and olive skin are so much like that little girl's. The little girl he watched die. The one he couldn't save the day his world tilted on its axis.

The flashbacks had driven him to the window. He needed to be reminded of where he was. Snow. Winter. Cold. When the sight couldn't drive the thoughts back, he grabbed the trash and headed to the dumpster, not thinking twice about what he was or wasn't wearing. He was just desperate to get out of the stifling heat of the kitchen.

And the cold settling into his bones helped him. Eased the cacophony in his head to a dull roar. And now, with Katniss before him, rubbing his arms and standing so very close, the images and noise inside him falls to an echo and then slowly ebbs away.

"Thank you," he says quietly, his cold hand coming to rest on the curve of her hip, just under the hem of her parka. Her hands still and she looks up into his eyes. The pools of blue have a hypnotic pull to them and she thinks if she's not careful she could drown in them.

"We need to get you warmed up inside. Come on, Hope came to see you," she says, shaking herself from the need she feels welling up inside her. She's too close to him and he's just too…male. And it's been a long time. A very long time. She slips an arm around his waist, telling herself she just wants to keep him warm, and leads him back inside.

Inside, she pushes him down into Marcus' plush office chair, her demeanor changing from soft and pliable to all business.

"Do you have something like a sweatshirt around here?" she asks as he watches her eyes dart around the room looking for something to keep him warm. A smile creeps up in him. He can't help thinking this whole "mother hen" thing she's got going on is cute as hell.

"On the hook by the door…my hoodie." She rolls her eyes and his stomach flips a little.

"And you couldn't have put it on _before_ you went out?" She returns with the sweatshirt and covers his broad shoulders. "Honestly, Peeta, it's freezing and snowing out. You'll catch pneumonia."

She takes his hands in hers and kneels on one knee next to him, rubbing and blowing her hot breath over his numb hands before she even realizes what she's doing. Her only thoughts are to get him warm.

He's thinking of about a million other ways she can warm him up - one specifically. He adjusts the way he's sitting and leans forward so his elbows rest on his knees, hands still clasped in hers. The movement seems to bring her out of mother-mode and she stops her movements, a blush coloring her cheeks and a sheepish smile lighting her features.

"Don't stop. That feels nice." He watches her soften and relax. She's close enough that he can see the flecks of navy blue that shimmer in her misty grey eyes adding depth and a bit of mystery that has always fascinated him.

In school he always wondered what went on in her head. He had spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering how she spent her time outside the classes they shared. He regrets he never had the courage to find out. School and sports and friends always seemed to get in the way, and when he finally got up the courage to say something, she had been with Gale Hawthorne.

Gale.

Is he Hope's father? Surely his father would have mentioned if he were.

"Peeta." His thoughts snap back to the woman still kneeling before him. She's so close he can smell the soft vanilla spice filling the air around her. He eases just a bit closer and takes a deep breath.

"Hmm?" His eyes close ever so briefly and then open to reveal a blue so deep it takes her breath away.

She watches his focus come back and wonders for the second time in mere minutes where he went.

"Where did you go?"

His eyes leave hers and move to their still clasped hands. He moves his thumb over her long fingers and relishes in their closeness knowing it won't last. Honestly, he's surprised she's allowing this. The Katniss he used to know never would have tolerated this type of intimacy with someone she barely knows anymore. And even though he really doesn't want to break this moment they seem to be having, he knows he can't have _that _conversation with her. Not yet, anyway. At least not when he's still so cold and still so raw from the flashbacks.

"Isn't there a little girl around here waiting for me?" And as if he conjured her, Hope barrels into the office and clambers into his lap.

Katniss chuckles at Peeta's shocked face as she steps away. Hope has never met a stranger. It's something that's both endearing and extremely frightening to Katniss. But Hope loves wide and deep, and Katniss can do nothing but keep a tight grip and a watchful eye on her magical girl.

As she watches his shock fade to joy Katniss feels something shift inside her as well. Shift to what, she's not sure…or at least she won't admit. She looks down at her hands and realizes they've gone cold. It's her daughter's laughter and bright diamond eyes along-side a pair of azure eyes that have always had a way of undoing her that causes something to tighten in her chest.

She's not sure if she's ready for this - whatever this is - but she's pretty sure she'd do anything in her power to put that look into his eye again. It's so much better than the bleak, far away look he held outside in the snow.

Peeta focuses on Hope's sparkling eyes and how the grey of her irises are ringed in deep navy blue. Her eyes are different. Shockingly different from the other girls and if he focuses everything on them, he finds he can keep the demons away. And this little girl has a way, doesn't she? So very different than her mother, but he finds he's drawn to her just the same.

As she bounces in his lap and shows him her gift he looks over to Katniss, her silver eyes dancing, too, and wishes there was some way to make this feeling stick. A friendship, maybe? He's not sure he can handle much more than that until he can get his head on straight again.

But for the first time since the explosion, Peeta finally feels something akin to…hope.

* * *

_**AN:  
**_

_**Wow, you guys, I am completely overwhelmed at your response to the first chapter of this! So amazing. Thank you so much for all the follows and reviews!**_

_**Come play with me on Tumblr: libertysueisstardusttoo dot tumblr dot com**_

_**I sometimes post sneak peeks and stuff for this and my other Everlark story "Mine" on my tumblr. I usually always post the progress I'm making on chapters and sometimes a picture or two. I posted a picture of Peeta's cookies and a picture of Hope's gift to Peeta.**_

_**A big shoutout to my beta, katnissinme. Please go to her profile and read her fic "The Way Back". It's awesome!**_

_**Thanks again! I'd love some reviews :)**_


	3. Chapter 3

She is a mess, she thinks as she shuffles into her office. Katniss slams the load of papers and flyers on her desk sending a few flying into the air. She angrily blows a few stray pieces of hair from her eyes.

She had hoped to carve out a little time this weekend to spend with the stack of books she has waiting. She looks longingly at them stacked ever so neatly on the table next to her overstuffed chair in the corner of her office. Her reading nook has been very neglected lately. It doesn't look like it's going to get any use any time soon, either.

_Why did I have to volunteer to organize Hope's class Christmas party? Like I don't have enough on my plate already. _Hope's teacher had cornered her just before she was able to slip out of the building this morning and reminded her of the commitment she had made at the beginning of the year. Nothing like waiting until the last minute. The party is a week away and Katniss has no idea where to even begin.

She flops down into her desk chair to read the green and red flyer Ms. Trinket handed her. _Holiday Party Ideas_ is written on the top, followed by a list of things to do. Well, this is helpful. Now she just has to purchase all the stuff, put together the gift bags, and - ugh - bake cookies. Seems like a lot of money for a kindergarten party. She knows she's going to have to call the other mothers and ask for donations, which makes her cringe. She hates talking on the phone. Especially to mothers.

The other mothers of Hope's classmates have tried several times to get her to join their group. Often, they come into the café for their "Mother's Morning Out" group, although, why they feel the need to name it, is beyond her. It's just a group of women who sit around a couple of times a week drinking coffee and gossiping. Not really her cup of tea. So, she generally makes excuses about having too much work or having to run errands.

Katniss knows she should make more of an effort. It'd be good for Hope if she socialized more with the other mothers. It would be easier for Hope to make friends and have sleep-over's in the future. But Katniss just can't make herself put herself out there like that.

She rationalizes that Hope already makes friends with everyone she meets. She won't need any more help. And Katniss already has enough girl friends, Prim and Madge fill that roll just fine, as far as she is concerned. She doesn't need any more. Plus, if she's honest, she'd rather sit at home with a book than spend her time gossiping with a group of women she hardly knows.

Her stomach growls. In her rush to get Hope ready for school, and then being so flustered by Ms. Trinket, she forgot to eat. She never forgets to eat.

Katniss stares at the steaming cup of coffee sitting on her desk and thinks a cherry popover from Mellark's would go with it perfectly. Or maybe one of their cheese danishes. She sighs and her eyes travel to the window. She was just there a half hour ago. It would probably be a little obvious if she showed up again so soon. These days it seems that her thoughts are always on pastries, cookies or cakes.

Or maybe it's just on the baker himself.

She finds herself thinking about him at the oddest times. Sometimes when she's swamped with paperwork. Sometimes when she's attempting to cook. Sometimes in the shower.

Try as she might, Katniss can't pinpoint exactly what it is about Peeta that drives her thoughts his way. Sure, he's incredible looking with his thick blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, and leanly muscled body, but so are his brothers, and she never thought twice about them. Is it his easy-going, friendly disposition? Maybe. But she's met, even dated, some nice guys, but they never stuck. Never made her practically obsess over them.

And she is definitely obsessing.

As soon as she got back to the office the day she found him shivering in the snow she immediately Googled PTSD in returning veterans of war. What she found was heart-rending, tragic and a bit terrifying. It all left her with a deep desire to help Peeta in any way she could.

So, she's found herself at the bakery every morning on the premise of picking up their daily order. So far, he's been there every morning with a smile on his face and a cookie in his hand . They chat, awkwardly at first, about mundane things like the weather or business. He asks about Hope every day, which Katniss finds odd. Men never ask about Hope. Most ignore the fact she even has a daughter.

But Peeta is different.

A bright smile covers Katniss' face when the door opens and her sister bounces in all smiles and cheer. She's wearing curve-hugging jeans, a black and hot pink pullover hoodie with matching sneakers. Her straight blonde hair swings with every step and Katniss wonders how she can look so put together in just a sweatshirt. But, that's Prim. Beautiful no matter what she's wearing. She'd hate her if she didn't love her so damn much.

"Good morning, big sis! I can't believe how warm it is out after snowing so much last week!" she says, as she leans down and covers Katniss in a bone-crushing hug. "I brought provisions!"

Katniss peers into the 'Mellarks Bakery' bag and sighs as the aroma of freshly baked muffins fills her nose.

"Bless you. You are a goddess. I was just thinking how hungry I am."

"Mellark's was so busy. You wouldn't believe all the women in there! Well, actually you would," she sits in the seat across the desk from Katniss, but leans, conspiratorially, across. "Peeta Mellark is back from Afghanistan and Ryan was working today, too. The two of them together in that one store…good lord," Prim says as she fans herself.

Katniss eyes her sister disapprovingly.

"Aren't you with Rory? Practically engaged?"

Prim's eyebrow quirks up.

"Practically, being the operative word. I can still look. You know I've always had a thing for Ryan Mellark. He is one damn fine man. And I think Rory needs a little push anyway…but that's beside the point…You've seen Peeta?"

Katniss nods her head. "I try to get over there early, before the masses get there. That's got to be annoying for Peeta. People are treating him like a side show."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she says rather loudly.

"There's nothing to tell."

"What do you mean 'nothing'? There's everything to tell. How is he? Have you talked? What's he like now?"

"That's gossip, Prim."

"So? I'm your sister. We're allowed to talk and you've always had a thing for him, anyway."

"I have not."

"You so had a crush on him, Katniss. I remember how nervous you used to get whenever you had a project with him in school. You used to spend hours in front of the mirror…and you _never_ did that. Oh, and how 'bout all those wrestling matches you dragged me to? I suppose you just like wrestling, right?"

"You're crazy."

"Katniss," she begins more gently, laying a hand over her sister's. "It's ok to like someone. You don't always have to be so…so…uptight when it comes to men."

Prim can practically see Katniss' hackles rise when she yanks her hand from under Prim's.

"I am not uptight. I'm just busy. I work. I have a store to run _and _I have a daughter. I don't have time for a man right now."

Prim wants to roll her eyes. It seems like Katniss always has some sort of excuse when it comes to men. She knows she had a bad experience with Hope's father, but that doesn't mean she should write off all men. Prim would like nothing more than to see Katniss with someone. She's tried several times to set her up with different men, but Katniss always has some excuse - he's too tall, he's too short, he smokes, he says "warter" instead of "water". It's always something.

"I'm just saying, I think having a little fun would do you good, and if that means spending a little time under Peeta Mellark…well, you could do worse."

"Primrose!"

"What? It's not like you've never had sex before, and Peeta Mellark looks like a man who knows what to do with a woman…even you."

"Thanks," Katniss retorts with a pronounced eye roll of her own. "I'm too busy and _Peeta Mellark _wouldn't want me anyway. Besides, he's got a lot on his plate, too."

"Regardless, it wouldn't hurt to put yourself out there once and awhile, Katniss. And _Peeta Mellark_ would be crazy not to want you." Prim gets up and comes around the desk to envelop Katniss in a tight hug. "When are you going to start believing you're beautiful and deserve to be happy just the same as everyone else?"

When Katniss opens her mouth to respond, Prim cuts her off, knowing what she's going to say. They've had this conversation too many times to count.

"Hope wants you to be happy, Katniss. Your life didn't stop just because you had a baby."

"I know. It's just hard. I have to think about Hope first, and I don't want to bring someone into her life just to have them take off."

"I get that, Katniss, but not every guy is an asshole like Seneca Crane was. Look, why don't we go out tonight? Have a few cocktails, sing a few songs. I'll call Ashley to babysit. I'm not on shift for another 2 days. We'll have fun."

"Maybe." She looks longingly at her stack of books again. She'd really rather just curl up with one of them than go to a noisy bar.

"No maybe's, Katniss. We're going out. That's final!" She hurries out the door before Katniss can protest. She knows it would be worthless to protest, anyway, because if Katniss knows anything, it's that stubbornness runs deep in the Everdeen family.

* * *

Peeta still has a few friends from school who live in town, but most are married with families and don't get out much. A few have come into the bakery to say hello, but he doesn't feel any connection to them like he did in school. Their lives are far different than the one he's been living, and he just can't find any common ground with any of them. Sometimes he just feels like a side-show. Come see the one-legged man!

So, instead of being with his friends, he is sitting in the local pub with his brother nursing a beer, and trying to ignore the people gawking at him around the room. Occasionally, someone will come up and buy him a beer. Thank him for his service. But, those people are rare. Most would rather just stare. It unnerves him.

Peeta is slumped in the last stool at the end of the bar next to his brother when they come in. He watches Prim practically drag Katniss through the door. Her eyes flit around the room, surveying the crowd, just as he'd seen her do a million times before in school. It always seemed to Peeta that Katniss had to search a room for possible dangers before entering…or maybe she was always just looking for the quickest escape route.

He's surprised to see her mouth turn up into a slight smile when her eyes finally land on him. He returns her crooked smile with one of his own, and lifts his hand in a small wave.

"She's got a kid," Ryan Mellark says to Peeta when he see's the exchange.

"I know. What difference does that make?"

"I'm just sayin', she's got a kid. Dad says you guys have been talking."

"Just talking…geeze, Rye, what do you take me for? Katniss is nice. We're friends…if that."

"Yeah, I know and you've always had a thing for her. Just be careful. You just got back and you're…different."

"Whatever." Peeta mutters before he angrily stands to go to the restroom. He doesn't know why having Ryan voice what he's been thinking to himself ever since the first time he saw Katniss with Hope is making him so mad, but it is. He knows he shouldn't want to pursue her. But it doesn't make him stop wanting her.

His blood is boiling when he returns, and it only gets hotter when he sees his brother in an embrace with Katniss by the bar.

It's not until he sees Katniss push Ryan away with a playful fist to the chest that Peeta relaxes.

He wonders when exactly Katniss got so comfortable with his family. It seems so foreign to him, and he can't reconcile the Katniss he knew in high school with the Katniss he sees in front of him. He can't even remember a time when Ryan and Katniss were ever in the same room, let alone carrying on a conversation. In the nine years that he's been gone between college and his military service, could things have really changed that much? What bothers him more, and causes an odd feeling of sadness to settle in the pit of his stomach, is how differently things could have turned out had he stayed, made different choices.

But, as much as he wonders how things could have been, he still would never change a thing about his service. He will never regret serving his country. He'll never regret the men he fought alongside.

"Who's got the rugrat tonight?" Peeta hears Ryan say when he approaches them at the bar.

"Ashley Michaels is on Hope duty tonight. Hey, Peeta," Katniss says with a shy wave.

"Hope is gettin' big. I saw her the other day with Haymitch when she came in for her cookie," Ryan adds with a pointed look in Peeta's direction. "Seems like only yesterday you had her strapped to you in that thing," he motions to his chest to indicate the Baby Bjorn she always carried Hope in as an infant.

Peeta is pretty sure he wants to punch Ryan right about now. He knows Ryan is only trying to remind him why Katniss isn't a good idea…like he could ever forget. But who Peeta talks to is none of Ryan's business, and the more Ryan pushes the more Peeta wants to bury his fist in his brother's mouth.

"Yeah, it does. I miss those days," she replies wistfully and Peeta tries to imagine Katniss with a baby strapped to her front. He can't. The idea of Katniss as a mother seems impossible to him when she's standing here alone, and looking so damn beautiful in a pair of tight-fitting jeans and simple blue shirt that shows off curves no mother should be allowed to have. But, at the same time, when she's with Hope, she looks completely natural and completely breathtaking, and he finds himself wanting her just the same.

These thoughts just reinforce the idea that, even after all these years, Katniss is still an enigma to Peeta. Who is Katniss Everdeen? What makes her tick? Has she changed as much as he feels like he has? She seems different, though he can't quite pin his finger on what it is that is different about her. All he knows is that he spends an inordinate amount of time thinking up ways to find out lately.

"You want to play pool, baby bro?" Ryan asks, when a friend challenges him to a game.

"No, I think I'm just going to hang out here." Ryan looks between Katniss and Peeta, purseing his lips in disapproval. But he relents, knowing he won't change Peeta's mind without causing a scene.

Peeta pulls out a stool for Katniss after Ryan leaves. He's relieved when she doesn't hesitate before sitting.

"Come here often?" he says, wagging his brow at his cheesy pick-up line. Katniss chuckles, but is grateful for his attempt at setting her at ease.

"Prim thought I needed to get out of the house," she says.

"Yeah, Ryan thought the same thing about me. Though, to tell you the truth, I'd rather be home with a book or something."

"Me too," she says with a small, nervous laugh. "I have a stack of about 12 books calling my name. But Prim doesn't take no for an answer. She's probably going to ply me with drinks until I sing with her." She inclines her head to where Prim is studying the Karaoke book on the other side of the bar.

"You should," Peeta says, remembering all the times he would conjure her voice in the desert to ease his racing mind. He can't quite remember it anymore and he would love to hear it again.

"I don't think so. Not tonight. It requires copious amounts of alcohol to get me on stage."

"You used to sing all the time in school. Why not now? What's changed?"

_What hasn't changed?_ she thinks.

"That was different," she says with a shrug and drains the last of her beer, motioning the bartender for another. "Another time. I should get home early tonight. I've got a full day tomorrow. Hope's teacher wants me to organize the kids' holiday party at school, and that means gift bags, calling other parents, because gift bags for 20 kids can get expensive, and …" she screws up her face in a look of horror…"baking. I know you're a baker and all, but my kitchen and I are not on friendly terms."

"Why don't you let me help?" The words are out before he can stop them, but there is just something about this woman that makes him want to be near her. He _wants_ to help her.

"I can't ask you to do that, Peeta! You spend all day baking and I definitely can't afford to buy all that stuff from Mellark's."

"I didn't offer to sell it to you, I offered to help with the baking. We're friends, right? At least I hope we are, and I'm pretty sure friends help each other from time to time. I even have some time off this weekend. Let me help."

It's the shy smile that slowly tugs at the corner of her mouth that does him in.

"Really?" she whispers. He nods, still too caught up in her smile to speak. She reaches her hand out as if to lay it on his thigh, but quickly retracts it and reaches for her beer instead, taking a long swallow. The amber liquid feels good going down and it's doing wonders for her nerves. It's not that Peeta makes Katniss nervous. Not really. What she's really afraid of is saying something stupid that makes him leave. And she really doesn't want him to leave; she just wants him to keep talking to her.

There's so much she wants to know about him. So much she doesn't know how to ask. She wonders if he misses the rush of combat and the feel of his rifle strapped to him. Does he miss the guys he fought with and the camaraderie the military offers? Or does being home in this small peanut-sized town offer a kind of comfort from the scars of battle she knows he feels? She wants to know what makes him smile. What makes him laugh. Because while his smile is coming more easily tonight, she still senses a sadness in him that the old Peeta never carried.

They ease into an comfortable conversation, neither particularly wanting to leave the stools they are sitting on, even when Prim or Ryan come trying to get them to sing karaoke or play a game of pool. Prim wags her eyebrows encouragingly at Katniss while Ryan scowls at Peeta's resistance to leave Katniss. But Peeta really doesn't care. He's enjoying himself - really enjoying himself - and he just wants to keep feeling this way. He hasn't really allowed himself to relax and enjoy someone's company since he left the sandbox, and he'll be damned if Katniss having a kid or Ryan's scowl is going to make him stop.

It's just friendship, after all. He's not trying to sleep with her. Not that he doesn't want to.

Good god, does he want to.

His mind immediately jumps to thoughts of her naked and underneath him and he can feel his jeans getting tighter. He pushes those thoughts away, and takes a long pull of his beer. Sex with Katniss is out of the question. He knows he's not ready for a relationship, and it could never be anything less with her. Especially, since there is the added factor of Hope.

A friendship will have to be enough.

He clears his throat, trying to think of something to get a naked Katniss out of his mind.

"So, um, if I help you with the baking, is there a Mr. Katniss that I should meet?"

"A 'Mr. Katniss'," she rolls her eyes and laughs. "You know there isn't. I am perpetually single, Peeta. Kinda comes with having a 5-year-old following you around all day."

"What happened to Hope's father?" The laughter leaves her eyes, and he instantly regrets his question. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. It's not my business."

"No, no," she says and pauses to take another drink. He briefly wonders if he should buy her another or if she's reaching her limit. He motions for the bartender anyway. "It's fine, Peeta. It's ok that you wonder. I imagine a lot of people do, especially since I don't really talk about it. Only Gale, Madge and Prim know…and Haymitch, of course."

He lays his hand over hers. "Really, Katniss, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I wasn't thinking."

No, he was thinking about her naked and writhing beneath him, and said the first stupid thing that came to his mind. He wants to kick himself now.

She looks down to his hand covering her own. It feels big and warm against hers. She can feel the hard calluses lining his palm. They do nothing to distract her from the heat coursing through her at his touch.

"It's a really long story, but the short of it is - his name was Seneca. He seemed like everything I wanted. I thought I was in love, and I thought we would get married after I graduated. Only I wasn't, and we didn't…obviously. He was a graduate student working on his MBA. When I told him I was pregnant he accused me of fucking other men because we were always careful. But nothing is 100%, you know? Then he told me, in a very horrible, if not colorful way, to get an abortion. Even gave me money to do it. He was so cold and harsh and didn't give a damn what I thought or what I wanted. Like it was no big deal, but it was to me. I couldn't do it. I finished out the term, came home with my tail between my legs, and never spoke to him again. I never told him I kept her. I figured he didn't deserve her."

She lets out a long slow breath and shrugs. His face is unreadable, and Katniss wonders if she's said too much. She's actually a little shocked at herself for saying so much so soon. It's not like her to trust someone with something so close to her heart. But there is just something about Peeta that tells her she can trust him. Something that makes her want to tell him everything about herself.

Or maybe it's just the alcohol.

Or the fire that is radiating from the point where he's touching her.

"You've changed a lot since high school," he says, surveying her like he's trying to figure out what makes her tick with just his eyes. "Any regrets?"

He absentmindedly begins to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. It's incredibly distracting, and she feels like she's swallowed her tongue. Katniss takes another drink to gather her thoughts.

"Everyone changes. You have, too," she says, softly. "But I have no regrets. How could I regret Hope? She's everything. She's changed me for the better. She's made me see the possibilities in embracing the world rather than shrinking away from it. I'm not saying it's easy, but at least I can see the possibilities now."

He sees that in her. It is the most significant change in her. She's more open. More trusting. Just the fact that she's sitting here with him and allowing him to touch her is proof of that.

He likes the change. He wants to know more. He _needs _to know more.

"What do you say we get out of here," he says, suddenly. When he sees the shock in her eyes he adds. "We can go to the IHOP and get some food or something. You know - talk some more before you let me bake your cookies."

She lets out a bark of laughter. "Is 'bake your cookies' a euphemism of some sort? If it is, I think it'd be more appropriate the other way around. I'd be baking your cookies."

"Ahh, but you can't bake, remember…Are you flirting with me, Miss Everdeen?"

"You wish," she says, with a saucy flip of her hair as she stands from her stool to put her coat on.

_Indeed._

He wags his eyebrows and she shoves him away much like she did earlier to Ryan. It's hard to imagine, but he may like this more playful version of Katniss even more than the old one.

Prim almost squeals with delight when Katniss tells her she's leaving with Peeta. She's thankful Peeta is too busy with his brother by the pool table to notice. They're having some sort of argument, and Peeta has his finger shoved into Ryan's chest.

"Everything ok?" Katniss asks when they move toward the door. Peeta's eyes are dark and intense. The light mood they shared just a few moments ago feels like a distant memory.

"My brother doesn't think very highly of me." He roughly pushes his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, clearly upset by whatever Ryan had to say.

"I'm sure that's not true, Peeta. What did he say?" Her voice is soft and soothing. She lays a hand on his back in an attempt to calm him. In a way it does. She can feel his shoulders deflate, and when he turns to her his eyes have lost some of the intensity they held.

"It's nothing. Really. Let's get out of here."

It hits him as soon as he steps out of the door. Whether it was his brother's lingering words or just the atmosphere of the dark parking lot he doesn't know, but the bright flickering of the parking lot light sends his mind reeling back to a night in Marjah and has him freezing in his boots mid-step, his eyes darting around the lot.

Katniss doesn't know what is happening and nearly runs into his still form. When an old pick-up truck rumbles down the street in front of the bar and backfires, she finds herself suddenly shoved against the bricks of the building, Peeta's hard body completely covering hers.

His heart is racing, and his breath is coming in quick pants, like he's run a long race. When she looks up into his face, his eyes are squeezed shut, and she can feel him fighting off whatever he's seeing behind his lids.

Panic attack.

She read about this when she was researching PTSD the other day. She desperately tries to remember what she's supposed to do in this situation, but she can't recall a damn thing. So, she does the only thing she can think of.

"Peeta," she says in a strong, but soothing voice, trying to bring him out of whatever flashback he's having.

"Peeta," she says again when he doesn't respond. She places her hands on his chest and bunches the fabric of his shirt in her fingers. His lack of response is frightening her, and the next time she says his name it comes out more like a plea.

"Peeta, please, it's all right. It was just a truck."

Slowly, his body relaxes against hers. He opens his eyes, and looks almost surprised to find her crushed between him and the wall. When he tries to move away she wraps her arms around him in relief, and hugs him to her, resting her head on the heavy muscles of his chest.

If he's ever been embarrassed before in his life, it pales in comparison to what he's feeling right now. He brings one forearm up to the bricks and rests his head on it. The other arm pulls Katniss' body into his.

"I'm sorry," he croaks out. "Sometimes I see things. Hear things and I can't really control it. I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No, you didn't hurt me," she mumbles into his chest. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah. Maybe I should just take you home."

"Peeta, it's ok. Let's just go eat like we planned." He's visibly shaken and she watches as he makes a valiant effort to compose himself. It's not really working.

He rubs at his eyes roughly.

"No, I'm tired. I think I just need to get you home and then I'm going to crash."

Saying goodbye to her is the very last thing he wants to do, but he knows it is what he should do. He probably scared her, and he can't imagine she wants to spend any more time with someone who is obviously unstable.

He pushes off the wall, but she grabs the edges of his jacket before he can move away from her. She doesn't want him to go, but she doesn't want to push him either. His discomfort is palpable.

"Peeta, I want you to know you can talk to me. I don't have any idea what you went through over there, but if you ever need to talk, I will listen." She reaches up to stroke his cheek and his eyes flicker to hers. "OK?"

"OK," he says, softly. She hates the darkness she sees haunting his eyes. She can't imagine the horror he went through that caused such an intense reaction to something as normal as a truck backfiring.

They make the short walk back to Katniss' apartment over the bookstore in relative silence, just the sound of their footfalls echoing over the quiet night. He runs a shaky hand through his already disheveled hair when they reach the door.

"I really am sorry if I scared you, Katniss."

"I know, Peeta, and it's fine. You didn't scare me. I meant what I said. If you need to talk, I'm here. If you need anything at all, I'm here." She reaches in her pocket for her phone. "What's your number? I'll text you mine when I get upstairs. Promise me you'll call."

He recites his number to her. He hates this weak feeling he has. He hates that she saw him that way. He feels like he's losing his mind, and he has no idea how to make it stop.

She can feel him pull away. Like he's shutting down and she instantly knows that he won't call. But something is telling her she can't let that happen. Something is telling her to reach out to him and not let him overreact to what happened by isolating himself.

Katniss leans up on her tip-toes and pulls him to her again.

"You promised me you'd bake my cookies," she says into his ear, and then softly, but ever so quickly, presses her lips to the sensitive skin beneath his ear, surprising them both, before turning into her building, leaving him standing on the sidewalk with his mouth hanging open.

* * *

AN:

Sorry this took so long. I had a horrible case of writers block these last couple of weeks...even had a major meltdown last night. It's a miracle it ever got done...

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! Let me know what you think. Reviews are always welcome and appreciated...even bad ones...at least I know you're reading.

Hit me up on tumblr:

libertysueisstardusttoo dot tumblr dot com


	4. Chapter 4

"I just don't think it's a good idea, Dad. He should be taking care of himself before he tries taking on someone else…especially someone with a child." Ryan's voice is laced with frustration as he paces the bakery kitchen.

"I really think she would be good for him," Marcus says, stroking the new growth of beard covering his face. "And more than that, Rye, I trust him. Peeta is a good man."

"I just think…"

"What exactly do you 'just think', Rye?" Peeta hisses. Venom seeping through his voice as he roughly bangs through the swinging doors into the kitchen. "Maybe what I do with my time is none of your fucking business. You have no fucking idea what is going on with me and Katniss - which, by the way, is nothing - but it's still none of your god damned business."

The anger he feels is welling so fast and hot inside him. He'd been standing on the other side of the door when he heard them talking. He wanted to stand and listen just to see what his brother really thought of him, but he couldn't take it any more. He is tired of everyone treating him like either a child - like his father does - or an animal - as his brother seems to think he is.

With each word that leaves Peeta's mouth the urge to tackle Ryan gets stronger and stronger.

"I mean who the hell do you think you are? You don't know anything about me anymore, Ryan!" he bellows, his finger punctuating his words as he stabs it into the air at his brother.

"OK, boys, that's enough," Marcus says, coming to stand between them.

He recognizes the look in both his son's eyes and knows things will escalate quickly if they don't find some control. And he has to admit the look in Peeta's eyes is troublesome. Yes, there is a fire and a darkness in them, but he honestly doesn't believe his youngest son is out of control. He just needs someone to believe in him. To care for him. To help him find his way back to a normal life away from the chaos of war.

Why not Katniss Everdeen? To Marcus' mind, a strong, beautiful woman is exactly what Peeta needs to bring him back.

His middle son has different ideas though. His mouth is still spouting off an avalanche of opinions that has Peeta's hands clenching at his sides.

"Look at you, Peeta." He gestures around his father's hulking form still standing between them. "You've barely got control of your anger right now. I bet you're just dying to hit me."

"You're damn right I want to hit you, but it has nothing to do with my control and everything to do with you being an asshole who just needs to mind his own fucking business."

"Your phone has been ringing all morning and I know it's her. You need to figure yourself out before you go fucking around with her," Ryan roars back.

That does it. Peeta lunges at his brother, almost knocking his father off his feet, his fist connecting with Ryan's jaw before Marcus can contain him, sending Ryan hurtling back into the metal shelving on the wall. A stack of stainless mixing bowls and several trays of utensils crash loudly to the floor and scatter across the room.

Peeta advances on Ryan again, his anger consuming him to the point where everything he sees is tinged in red and black.

Ryan had never been afraid of his little brother before. They'd fought in the way brothers do all throughout their childhood, often having to be separated by their father. But he is afraid now. And this is exactly what he was afraid would happen and exactly why he felt he had to say something.

"Enough!" Marcus' deep, booming voice echoes through the room. With his hand on Peeta's shirt collar, he drags him away from Ryan, causing his prosthetic to slip on one of the discarded spoons scattered over the floor.

Peeta tries to shake his father off, but Marcus' grip only gets tighter as he drags him into the office.

"Pick all this up, Ryan and tend to your face," he says over his shoulder, shaking his head in disgust. He gently pushes Peeta into the office.

"You," he says, pointing a slightly shaking finger at Peeta. "You, calm yourself down." He closes the door behind him and marches to where Ryan is stiffly gathering the spilled contents of the shelves from the floor.

"What the hell were you thinking, baiting him like that?" Marcus says in a hushed tone.

"Someone had to," Ryan mutters, straightening himself to face his father. "What's going to happen if something like that happens with Hope around? You always treat him with kid gloves, Dad. He's messed up. That war messed him up, and you need to realize it just as much as he does. He needs help, Dad. More help than you or me or Katniss can give him. Can't you see that?"

"What Peeta needs is some understanding, not a fight. You need to apologize. Go clean yourself up - you're bleeding - and then I expect you to make this right."

Ryan mutters some more under his breath as he steps over the mess on the floor to pull the first aid kit from the shelf by the sink.

Marcus finds Peeta pacing the office like a caged tiger, the anger still flowing off him in waves.

"Peeta, stop. Sit down." He pulls a water bottle from the refrigerator in the corner and hands it to Peeta. "Come on, son. Come sit down."

With a gentle hand, Marcus guides Peeta to the chair and eases him down. He watches as his son seemingly crumples in on himself and begins to shake as he fights for control.

It's difficult to watch him struggle like this. Peeta was never quick to temper. That trait always fell on Ryan or even his oldest son, Marc, but never Peeta. He was always the calm one. The one who would try to break the fight up, rather than join in the melee. Not saying that Peeta never fought. No, he had to break up Ryan and Peeta more times than he would have liked, but Peeta was always the gentler of his boys, at least until he was pushed too far.

The man he sees struggling before him is not that boy anymore, and it pains him to admit it.

Peeta lifts exhausted eyes to Marcus after he finally composes himself enough to speak.

"Is that what he really thinks of me, Dad? Do you think that, too? That I am out of control? That I would hurt her, or use her in some way?"

"No, of course not." He sighs heavily, his big shoulders heaving under his white t-shirt. "Ryan is just worried about you, and frankly, so am I."

"I would never hurt her. I couldn't," he mutters miserably.

"I know, but maybe you should go back to the VA…see if there is something they can do for these mood swings?"

"They'll just put me back on those pills that only make me feel dead inside. At least now I feel something. It may not be good most of the time, but at least it's something."

The office door clicks open and Ryan strides in. He fully intends to apologize and then leave, because he believes he spoke the truth, but when he sees his brother's slumped form he instantly feels horrible. Worse than horrible.

Marcus levels Ryan with a stare that tells him he better make amends and then quietly leaves the room.

"Peet, I'm sorry," he says, dropping himself down into the chair his father just vacated. He rubs his hands roughly over his face, pulling the skin taut over the high bones of his cheeks, and then up and through his dirty blond hair. He doesn't want to say what he is about to say. He doesn't want to hurt his little brother, he loves him and only wants the best for him, but at the same time he has to get it off his chest.

"I'm just worried about you, man. Your emotions have been all over the place since you got back. One minute you can barely get out of bed and the next you're seething with anger. I don't want to see you take on too much too soon and end up hurting yourself _or them_. This could so easily blow up in your face, Peet." He sighs heavily before continuing. "I don't want to sound harsh or mean or whatever, but you're not exactly stable right now."

He feels like such an ass. He really does. But when he looks at his brother he doesn't recognize him, and he just wants to help. Even if he has to be a bastard about it, he just thinks someone should say what he knows everyone is thinking.

Peeta is a ticking time-bomb.

"You don't think I know that?" Peeta says a little more loudly than he intended. He tries to swallow back the anger he feels rising again. He takes a deep breath and counts to five. "You don't think I know what it looks like when I'm cowering in the corner because someone dropped a fucking bowl on the ground? Or that I can barely contain the urge to rip your throat out when you say something I god damned know is only the truth? God, Rye! I _know _I'm unstable! I am well aware of that fact."

He pauses again, because now he feels the tell-tale tightness of tears in his throat. He will not cry in front of his brother. He won't.

"But the fact of the matter is," he begins again, this time much more quietly. "The only time I feel even half-way like myself is when I'm with her. Last night, sitting at that bar, was the first time in so long that I have felt somewhat normal. It felt good. It felt right. Hell, even when she just stops by to get the order for the café - just those few minutes she's here - sometimes that's the best I feel all fucking day. Every time she walks through that door something happens. I feel lighter - like a weight has been lifted. I can't explain it, all I know is that I feel better when she's around. So you'll have to excuse me if I want to keep that feeling going. I just want her friendship, man. I'm not looking for anything more right now. I just want to spend a little time with the one person who makes me feel half-way like myself again."

Ryan sighs, not knowing what to say to counter that. There is nothing he can say. How can you deny a man the right to feel good?

"Are you sure, Peet? Because, whether or not you're keeping it 'just friends', she's never been just any girl to you."

Peeta nods his head. He's out of words. He has nothing left. He feels exhausted, like he was the one who got punched in the gut. Slowly, he lets his head fall to where his arms lay folded on the desk. What he wouldn't give to sleep for the rest of the day. Not that he ever sleeps. Ever. But the idea…

Ryan stands to leave. He frowns down at his brother. When he opens the office door he sees Katniss standing at the swinging door that leads to the front of the bakery with her mouth open, gawking at the mess he still hasn't cleaned.

"Um, your dad said I should come back if I didn't hear any shouting…is everything ok?"

"Yeah…you know how brothers are - hit first, talk second." He tries to laugh, but the heaviness from the conversation he and Peeta just had is still weighing on him, and the split lip Peeta gave him only makes him grimace. "I'm sure he'd like to see you, Katniss."

He wants to say more. He wants to ask her to take care of Peeta and not hurt him, to be careful with him, but he knows he's said too much today already. He just motions to where Peeta lies still hunched over the desk, and she brushes past him toward the office, scowling at the darkening skin of his chin.

"Hey," she says when the door clicks behind her and Peeta peeks one eye out from his arms. "Your dad said I should come back. You haven't answered any of my texts this morning. Is everything ok?"

"Ryan and I had a bit of a difference of opinion," he answers, straightening and then stretching his back.

She searches his face for any signs of damage.

"Looks like you won."

"I suppose." He doesn't feel like he won. He feels like he lost in a very big way.

She places her hand on his back. His white t-shirt is stretched tightly across his thick shoulders and is damp with sweat.

"Must have been some fight. You want to tell me about it?"

He considers whether or not he wants to tell her anything. He decides he does, considering she was the reason for the fight, and considering Ryan's points were valid and most likely correct.

"He thinks I should stay away from you until I get a better grip on this," he says tapping his temple.

"And you don't want to?" He shakes his head, but as he does, his eyes tell her something different. "But?"

"But maybe he's right, Katniss. Look what happened last night. I know I scared you, don't deny it. What if I had hurt you?" He takes her small hand in his and turns in his seat so he is fully facing her with his elbows on his knees. She mirrors his position, their faces mere inches apart. He takes her other hand.

"You didn't, though. Doesn't that count for something? If anything, you were trying to protect me from whatever you thought was happening." She smiles shyly, and tilts her head a little. "Last night was nice, wasn't it?"

"It was. And I like spending time with you. But I don't want to hurt you, Katniss."

"You won't. We're friends, right?"

"Yeah, friends," he says, quietly. Ryan's words ring in his ears - _She's never been just any girl to you._

"Well, then it's settled. We're baking tomorrow afternoon. Just us. A friendly afternoon at my place, no pressure. Just two friends having a good time. It will be fun."

He wonders if he's even capable of a normal, fun afternoon, but he supposes if anyone could make that happen for him, it's Katniss.

* * *

"Go on up, Peeta. Katniss is expecting you," Sae, Katniss' business partner, says the next evening from behind the counter, pointing a long gnarled finger toward the iron staircase. He looks down at the paper grocery bags in his arms and then dubiously eyes the spiral staircase in front of him. How is he going to manage that with his leg? _Very carefully, _he muses. He probably should have gone to the door on the street instead.

When he gets to the top of the stairs and pokes his head around the slightly ajar door, he is glad he braved the stairs, because if she had to come to the door he never would have gotten to see this.

Bruce Springsteen's version of 'Merry Christmas, Baby' is blaring from the little silver iPod doc on the kitchen counter. Hope is leaning over the island countertop with a little headband of reindeer antlers perched atop her head, bouncing to the beat as she and Katniss sing along. Peeta is glad Katniss is too busy pulling things from her cabinets to notice him and he takes the opportunity to openly stare at her ass as she dances around the kitchen, hips emphasizing each staccato of the R&B melody.

He's pretty sure he could watch those hips move forever.

He's never seen her like this and he wonders if she saves the moments of pure joy like this for the privacy of her home. He feels like he's been let in on a secret only she and Hope share. She's so carefree and lighthearted and…happy.

He wants to laugh at the look on her face when she finally turns around to see him leading against the doorframe watching her. She is so startled that she nearly upends the bag of flour in her hands, but she saves it, only allowing a small 'poof' as it drops to the countertop. She waves a hand to clear the white dust floating in front of her.

Hope scrambles off the stool and launches herself at Peeta. He picks her up and settles her on his hip.

"Hey, cupcake," he says happily as the tiny girl peppers him with questions. He adores this little pixie of a girl with her bright shining eyes and bubbly personality and loves every moment she's around him.

He answers her questions while his eyes never leave her mother's flustered face.

"You startled me!" Katniss chides after she gathers her wits.

"Sorry, but I couldn't help but watch," he says with and enormous smile. "Please, don't stop on my account, keep going."

She only glares at him.

"No, really, please…I'll sing the next one if you keep singing."

She looks at him skeptically and then turns to her iPod. When she sees what the next song is, she joins in the song currently playing - 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' - and smirks wickedly at Peeta.

He can't move as her voice moves soft and sultry through the song. Hope lays her head on his shoulder and they watch as Katniss sings while continuing to gather supplies. She doesn't look at them, still uncomfortable singing in front of an audience without some liquid courage. He doesn't understand her reluctance, though, because he has to hold his breath when her voice soars through the last verse.

"My mommy is so beautiful when she sings, isn't she?" Hope whispers, lifting her head from his shoulder and grasping his face in her tiny hands so he'll look at her.

"She sure is," he whispers back. All he can think is her voice, god - no - _her whole being -_ is more beautiful than he remembered. The voice he conjured on those lonely desert nights doesn't even compare to the real thing.

When the song comes to an end Hope claps for her mom and Peeta whistles in appreciation, his hands still full of Hope. Katniss does a graceful little bow, and as the first couple of beats and scratches ring from the speakers that wicked grin appears on her face again.

Peeta recognizes the song and groans.

"You have _got _to be kidding me," he says as the first verse of Run DMC's "Christmas In Hollis" starts.

"Ah,ah, ah…you promised," she teases, waving her finger at him. He chuckles and nods his head.

"Ok, I got this," he laughs and turns to Hope. "You know this song, cupcake?" She bobs her head up and down excitedly.

"It's my favorite!" Hope cries, unable to contain her joy.

"Awesome, you wanna help a guy out?"

He sets her down and adjusts the baseball cap on his head so it sits crooked over his curling hair, and then animatedly launches into the next verse with Hope joining him.

_It's Christmas time in Hollis Queens  
Mom's cooking chicken and collard greens  
Rice and stuffing, macaroni and cheese  
And Santa put gifts under Christmas trees  
Decorate the house with lights at night  
Snow's on the ground, snow white so bright  
In the fireplace is the yule log…_

Katniss doubles over in laughter as the two of them do something that she is sure is supposed to resemble hip hop, but doesn't even come close.

They look ridiculous and silly and _perfect_.

"Oh. My. God. That was the greatest thing I have ever seen!" Katniss says, with the biggest smile he has ever seen on her face, when they finish with grand bows. "Why didn't I have my video camera? You two would be YouTube famous!"

"Again!" Hope shouts, tugging at his pant leg.

"I need to catch my breath, cupcake," he says, as he sags onto the barstool Hope had occupied when he arrived and tosses his hat onto the stool beside him. He makes a show of being tired, but the smile that alights his face is breathtaking. My god, the boy is beautiful when he smiles.

Katniss turns the music down slightly and leans her elbows on the counter, face in her hands.

"You are just full of surprises. Where did you ever learn that?" Peeta chuckles and shakes his head.

"You'd be surprised the things we come up with in the desert during Christmas." She cocks her head to the side, silently urging him to continue.

"The holidays can get lonely over there - you can imagine - and we had to be creative. It could get bad for some of the guys, especially the ones with families. You know?" She nods, and goes to pull a beer from her refrigerator as he continues.

"…so, my buddy Finnick and I and some of the other guys decided to draw songs out of a hat and do our own rendition…guess which one I got?" He chuckles again, but she can see the sadness in his eyes again as he is drawn into the memory. "It was stupid and silly, but it got us through."

"Do you miss it?" she asks.

"Sometimes. I miss the guys most of all. The hardest part is the guilt of having to leave them behind. Sometimes I feel like I abandoned them."

She opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off.

"No, I know, obviously I didn't _abandon_ them, but it doesn't stop the guilt of being safe at home while they're still there fighting."

He takes a long pull from his beer, hoping to drown out the pounding he can feel starting at the base of his scull.

"Do you ever talk to them anymore?"

"Just Finnick." _The rest are dead, _a voice echoes in his head. He doesn't even want to start thinking about that and he has to remind himself that they're not _all _gone. Just the ones on that last patrol. He shakes the thoughts from that day away before they have a chance to burrow into his brain again.

"Finn is getting out soon. I'm trying to convince him to move up here - bring his girl and start over …you'd like Finnick…everyone does."

"I'm sure I would."

The mood is so heavy now and Katniss doesn't know how to get back the happiness that filled the room just moments ago. She wishes she had never brought up the war. She just wanted them to have a fun day and now she's ruined it.

She offers him another beer when they find themselves just watching each other, neither knowing where to take the conversation from here.

"So, maybe we should get to those cookies," he says pushing himself from the stool. "Oh, and I brought something else." He calls for Hope who has disappeared into another part of the apartment, and gathers the bags he left stacked by the door. He pulls out a box of cupcakes from one bag as Hope scrambles onto the stool beside him.

"Oooo, cupcakes!" Hope exclaims. "Because I'm your cupcake?"

"Yup," he says tugging on her curls. Katniss watches in awe as the sadness retreats from his eyes and something resembling happiness seeps in its place.

"But there's no frosting," Hope pouts.

"Nope, I thought we'd do that part together since that's the most important part of a cupcake. I'll teach you," he tells her, pulling out tubs of white frosting and strawberries from the bag.

"We're going to make these look like Santa hats, does that sound like a good idea?" he asks Hope. The smile that shines from her angelic face tells him the idea is the greatest idea she's ever heard. He glances over at Katniss and winks at her from under the fringe of curling bangs falling into his eyes, and her heart stutters inside her chest for a moment.

He's so natural with Hope as he shows her the box of tips he uses to frost the cakes, and then even includes her in filling the bags. Each step is explained carefully, with infinite patience and in a way that has Hope completely enraptured with every detail. When he finally takes her little hands beneath his and slowly pipes a swirl of frosting over the top, making the base of the hat, Hope squeals with delight. Then, with her hands shaking with excitement she delicately places a strawberry on top to make the hat while Peeta dollops a button of frosting to the top. Santa hat complete.

It makes Katniss' heart swell and her chest tighten and she pushes down that gnawing ache inside her heart that threatens to take over. Seeing her daughter with a man like Peeta just does things to her. Makes her wish for things she'd long given up on. But needing a man is not on her list of things to do. She's worked hard to carve out a life for her and Hope and it's a good life.

But she can't deny she likes the sight before her and the happiness she sees in both their eyes.

_Friendship, _she chants to herself. _Friendship._

* * *

Two dozen sugar cookies in various shapes, all meticulously decorated by both Hope and Peeta, two dozen peanut butter blossoms and two dozen Strawberry Santa hat cupcakes lay neatly wrapped and boxed on the kitchen countertops.

It has been a good day. A good day indeed, he thinks as he dries the last of the dishes amidst the giggles and chortles resonating from the bathroom down the hall where Katniss is giving Hope her evening bath. The sound makes him smile widely and he thanks God for this little reprieve he's been given.

She makes it look so easy, he muses, as he studies all the photographs lining the walls and tables. It's a visual history of their life. Picnics, holidays and parties documented in 3x5 and 4x6 strips of time and memory.

He recognizes most everyone in all the pictures. Gale Hawthorne and Madge Undersee, who must actually be Madge Hawthorne he gathers from the wedding photo he sees on the fireplace mantle alongside a picture of an awkward Haymitch Abernathy holding the infant Hope. Prim in the blue cap and gown of their high school laughing with Katniss in the middle of the school's football field.

Where had he been during all these moments? What part of the world had he been dropped into? How different their lives had been. There is just so much he wants to know, stories he wants to hear. He wonders if she'll tell him the stories behind each of the moments captured in the photos.

Hope rushes into the room freshly scrubbed and buffed and smelling like an angel and jumps into his arms, her undimmed enthusiasm infectious in its boundlessness.

"Goodnight, Peeta. Thank you for helping us bake today."

"It was my pleasure, cupcake." He hugs her to him and relishes the feeling of her tiny body hugging him back.

"Come on, chickie," Katniss calls from the back of the apartment. Hope presses a kiss to Peeta's cheek before disappearing again to her room.

"You're good with her. Very patient. You really made her feel important when you were showing her how to do everything," Katniss says when she returns a few minutes later. She turns the music back on and joins him by her Christmas tree.

"That's how my dad taught me. I love kids, and she is one amazing kid, Katniss. You've done an incredible job raising her on your own."

"Yeah, she is pretty amazing." She pauses and lays her hand on his arm. "I'm glad you came over. We'd never have been able to do all that without you."

"There's really no place I would rather be. I can help at the party, too, if you want. It'd be nice to get out. You may even want to ask my dad to play Santa for the kids. He used to do it at our church when I was little," he tells her and pulls her into his body. He likes that they are becoming more comfortable with each other, and the little touches and hugs seem a natural extension of that comfort.

"That sounds like a good idea." They stand quietly in front of the tree just gazing at the lights, ornaments and ribbons.

"Seriously, this is the best I've felt in a long time. You make things easier," he murmurs, squeezing her to him and running his hand up and down her arm.

Turning herself into his body, Katniss wraps her arms around him, touched by his simple statement. He begins to sway gently in time with the music. This feels good to her. Being close to someone again feels so good. Especially Peeta. He makes her feel comfortable in a way she is not used to. In a way that she can't ever remember feeling before. It shocks her at the same time as it delights her.

"I think you should sing me another song," he whispers into her ear. She shakes her head no against his chest where her head has found a perfect place to rest right underneath his chin.

"Aw, come on. It will make me happy. Just one more time," he pleads. She chuckles against him and the feeling of her laughter reverberates throughout his entire body.

"No way. Besides, it's you who should sing to me." He backs away from her slightly so he can see her face and raises an incredulous brow at her. "Technically," she continues, "I am up 2 songs to your 1. It's your turn."

"I'm pretty sure my making a complete fool of myself should count as at least 2 songs…maybe even three."

"Nope, just one. Sorry."

"Man, you're a tough nut, Miss Everdeen."

They lapse back into a comfortable silence and she settles herself against the hard planes of his chest once more as they continue to softly rock back and forth to the music. He leans his head on top of hers and wonders if this is what friends do. Not in his experience, but he's sure as hell not moving out of her arms anytime soon. Instead he tightens his hold on her.

"This was a good day."

"So good," she murmurs. She tilts her head up so she can see his eyes. They sparkle in the dim light of the Christmas tree. She marvels for a second about how the soft glow of the tree's white lights makes the curling ends of his golden hair and eyelashes shimmer, giving him an ethereal quality. He just doesn't seem real to her. The whole moment doesn't seem real, and she's sure any minute she will wake alone in her bed.

"Nothing happened," she adds with a whisper, harkening back to their conversation the day before.

"Nothing happened," he returns in the same low whisper. He wants to kiss her so bad. He cannot take his eyes off her plump little mouth. He tries to swallow down the need, but it's nearly impossible, especially when her tongue darts out to wet her lips. To avoid temptation, he leans his forehead against hers and sucks in a long breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

He cannot kiss her.

"Friends?" she breathes, the words barely audible, her heart tight and aching in her chest.

"Friends," he answers, but he knows it's a lie.

He knows he's already stumbled over that cliff.

* * *

_**AN:**_

_**Well, there you have it - LibertySue's attempt at Christmas cheer! LOL. I hope you enjoyed it!  
**_

_**Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited and reviewed this! I appreciate it very, very much!  
**_

_**I don't know if I will be able to update again before Christmas...you know how hectic the holidays can be for everyone, but I will try. I'd also like to get back to 'Mine' soon so we can all have some closure there. Hopefully I can have that out by the new year - maybe sooner - depending on how real life treats me the next couple of weeks.  
**_

_**My tumblr has pics of the cupcakes and stuff if you're interested in that sort of thing - libertysueisstardusttoo dot tumblr dot com  
**_

_**Anyway, Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Hannakkah, Merry Christmakkah and all that good stuff!  
**_


	5. Chapter 5

A heavy sheen of sweat covers his skin as he bolts upright in his bed, his heart thundering in his chest with the force of a locomotive. Peeta instinctively reaches for his rifle, grasping at the bed covers, bed post and floor before he awakens enough to realize where he is.

Home. Twelve Oaks.

He pulls his rough, calloused hands over his face and up through his hair. It's longer now than it's been since he enlisted. Longer even than he wore it in school. But he likes it this way. He likes that when he pulls on it, it reminds him he's not that man anymore. He doesn't have to keep it short or carry a rifle or wear a flak jacket to protect from sniper fire. He's not over there anymore.

As if changing who he is on the outside will change what is still screaming on the inside. He knows the notion is baseless, but it's something and nothing else seems to work.

The dream had been so real, but that's no surprise. All his dreams have a relentless realness that leaves him breathless and shuddering. It's the same dream every night. It never changes. He tries to move faster, warn his men earlier, anything to change the outcome of that horrible day, but nothing ever changes. The warning gets stuck in his throat. His feet never move any faster. His men still die. The girl still burns.

This is his cross to bear. His own personal hell to be relived every night.

He stumbles out of his childhood, twin-sized bed and hops to the tiny refrigerator in the corner, not bothering to strap on his prosthetic. Sweat drips off his hair, rolls down his face and glides down his bare torso as he downs a bottle of water. Resting heavily on the tall, mahogany dresser he's had in his room since he was a baby, he tries to calm his breathing and still his racing mind.

He's just so tired.

But he can't stop the hum in his veins or the way his skin crawls with anxiety long enough to go back to sleep. So, he does the only thing he can think of and drops to the floor and begins his early morning push-up regimen. It'd be easier if he had his leg on, but he likes the extra burn using only one leg provides. It grounds him. Keeps his mind focused.

He watches the clock as he loads some weight to the weight bench tucked in the corner of his room. It had been the first thing he requested his father put back in the room when he'd still been rehabbing his leg at the Walter Reed National Military Hospital. Keeping fit is a matter of pride for a Marine and he didn't want to lose that along with his leg.

As the clock ticks, he waits for the endorphins to ease some of the tension from his body. He needs to get the anxiety under control before he meets Katniss today. It's Hope's party and the last thing he wants is to be wound tighter than a drum while in a classroom of five-year-olds.

The more he thinks about actually being in public and the more time passes without any of the tension leaving his body, he realizes he should probably cancel. He eases the bar back down into the cradle and sits on the end of the bench with his elbows on his knees. His hands shake as he stretches his fingers in front of him. He can't do this. He is in no shape to face the public today. But the thought of letting Hope down - of letting Katniss down - makes him feel even more worthless.

And if he's honest with himself, he just simply wants to see Katniss. He just wishes he wasn't such a mess.

If he were a decent man he'd stay away from her. He'd try to get his head right before he imposed himself on her and Hope. But this compulsion he feels to be near her is spinning out of his control. They've seen each other every day and each day it gets both easier and harder to be around her. it's easier because things just feel simple when he's around her. And nothing in his life feels simple anymore. But it's harder because what he really wants to do when he's with her is throw her over his shoulder and take her to bed.

Yeah, if he were a decent man, he'd stay away from her.

He lays back down on the weight bench to work more of the tension from his body. But, it just doesn't seem to be working. He should call and cancel. He could ask Rye to take his place and work the bakery instead. They'd understand.

Her picture fills the screen of his phone when he pushes her number. He'd taken it just last night when they'd been cleaning up after a quick dinner together. She'd just looked so pretty with her hair scooped up into a messy knot, her eyes dancing at something Hope had said.

"Hey, Peeta," she says when she answers. He immediately feels like an ass for wanting to cancel. His face falls into his free hand and he rubs at his temple with the heel of his hand. When he doesn't say anything, she continues, her voice soft. "Is everything alright?"

His voice falters and he has to begin his sentence twice before he gets it right. Twice. What is wrong with him? He really should just throw in the towel on this day and go back to bed.

"Yeah, I was just making sure you still wanted me today." Katniss tries to suppress a giggle, unsuccessfully. Does she still want him? If he only knew. The more time they spend together, the more she's sure she's going to spontaneously combust from all the wanting. Does she still want him?

But she can hear something in his voice that tells her he doesn't know what he said, and a feeling of uncertainty starts to take hold in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she's read him wrong. Maybe all the time he's been spending with her and Hope is getting to be too much for him. He wouldn't be the first guy who bailed.

"If you still want to help, that would be great, Peeta, but you don't have to." He can tell she's trying to keep her voice light and mask the disappointment, which only makes him feel worse for even thinking about letting her down.

"No, I just wanted to make sure. I'll be there in 20, Katniss. Just need to jump in the shower first." He hangs up the phone, leaving her with thoughts of him in the shower…naked…wet…and there's that wanting again.

She's in the middle of a particularly spectacular daydream when her Uncle Haymitch barges through her door not two minutes later.

"Ever hear of knocking?" she says blandly as he tugs off his jacket and opens the fridge to pull out a soda. "Please, by all means, make yourself comfortable."

He ignores her tone.

"So, sweetheart, I heard a rumor last night while at the VFW."

"Since when do you listen to gossip?" she says, drying off a glass she just washed in the sink and setting it before him on the island.

"Since it involves my grand-niece, that's when."

"Hope? What kind of gossip could you have possibly heard about Hope? She's 5." Haymitch rolls his eyes.

"Not Hope - you…and the Mellark boy. You know the youngest one."

"His name is Peeta."

"Whatever. One of the guys said he saw you leave the bar with him the other night."

"So?" Katniss tries to wipe all the emotion from her voice, but the way he phrased that has her hackles raising quickly and she feels a familiar defensiveness settle over her like armor.

Haymitch watches her stiffen and knows he's hit a nerve. Maybe there's more to this story than he thought. It's been so long since Katniss has even entertained the idea of a man in her life that he was sure Chaff had been mistaken when he mentioned it to him last night.

He also recognizes that steely gaze she's leveling at him and knows he's not going to get much out of her without pulling it. He knew he should have gone to Prim first. Katniss and Prim call it the Everdeen stubbornness, but he knows better. It's an Abernathy trait through and through, passed down from his father and his father before him. His sister - Katniss' mother - is just as stubborn. That is probably the reason Katniss and her mother never really got along that well. Like recognizes like and doesn't often appreciate what it sees. Now that they don't have Devon to temper them, Katherine and Katniss tangle often.

God, he misses Devon. They'd served together at the tail end of the Vietnam War. Two young, naïve boys who saw things no 18-year-old should ever have to witness. He never expected his outgoing, jovial best friend to fall for his moody and reserved little sister when he'd come to visit Haymitch a few years after he'd finally gotten out of the service. But the second Devon Everdeen laid eyes on Katherine he fell hard and fast. Six months later they were married. Five years after that Katniss had been born.

Haymitch holds his hands up in front of himself in surrender when he sees the fire light in Katniss' eyes.

"Now, now. No need to get your panties bunched. I'm just tellin' ya what I heard. He's fresh out of the corps, right? Word is he lost a leg."

Katniss nods, but offers nothing further.

Haymitch wants to strangle the stubborn right out of her. He sighs and rolls his eyes, which triggers a twitch at the corner of Katniss' mouth.

Torturing Haymitch is one of Katniss' favorite pastimes. It's not that she doesn't trust Haymitch. She even values his opinion, to a point. In fact, she's tossed around the idea of going to him with her concerns about Peeta anyway, but she finds this game much more satisfying right now. Especially since he barged in here uninvited when Peeta is due any moment. The last thing she wants is for Peeta to walk through the door while she's talking about him with her uncle.

"I'm just curious, sweetheart. It can be…" he pauses, trying to find the right word that won't set her off. "…challenging, coming home from war under the best circumstances, and from what I hear, that boy's circumstances are far from the best."

She sighs, hearing the genuine concern in his voice, but when she glances at the clock she notes that Peeta should be walking through the door at any second.

"I appreciate your concern, Uncle Haymitch," she begins, using the endearment she rarely ever graces him with in an effort to distract him. "But Peeta and I are just friends and he'll be here any minute now." When Haymitch quirks a knowing eyebrow, she hastily adds, "To help me with Hope's Christmas party at her school."

"Is he now?" he says, wryly.

"Don't start. Now is not the time. Ok?"

Haymitch doesn't say anything further, instead choosing to wait until the boy gets here so he can see for himself what is going on, but he's careful to bring his cup slowly to his mouth to hide the grin he knows is covering his face. He's positive now that there is more here than Katniss is letting on. Chaff had implied as much, and he doesn't know many men, especially one fresh off the battlefield, who would "help" a woman at her daughter's Kindergarten Christmas party if he wasn't sniffing around for something more. To say he is suspicious would be an understatement.

The first thing Haymitch notices when the boy walks in the door - without knocking, he notes - is the way his eyes scan the room, hyper-aware of his surroundings, and the fact that he is literally vibrating with anxiety. It's a feeling Haymitch knows well, and one that leaves a very sour taste in his mouth.

Haymitch tips his glass to Peeta when his eyes fall on him, but Katniss has already stepped in their line of sight in her haste to greet him.

That is the second thing Haymitch notices - the immediate change in Katniss from gruff, snarky Katniss to sweet, tender Katniss. She softens and - he snorts - actually smiles at Peeta, the scowl she'd thrown at him a minute ago gone.

_Just friends, my ass,_ he thinks as he gathers his coat from the bar stool and slips it on. He can't hear what they are saying to each other. He's just out of earshot, but the tone carries. Soft. Dulcet. Velvety.

Do they even realize the dance they're playing at, he wonders. The slight touches. A blush. Hushed voices.

They look like…he coughs before the word 'lovers' takes hold in his mind and walks to where they are standing closely together, Katniss' hand on the boy's arm.

"Welcome home, Marine." Haymitch extends his hand to Peeta.

"Thank you, sir," Peeta answers, stepping back slightly so he can take Haymitch's hand in a stiff shake.

Haymitch turns to Katniss and smirks.

"Dinner next week sounds great, sweetheart," he says as if they'd just been discussing it before Peeta came in. "In fact, I believe Thursday is perfect. Why don't you invite your _friend_, here." He puts extra emphasis on 'friend' and raises his eyebrows as if daring her to argue.

Katniss can feel the growl bubbling up in her throat, but she knows he has her cornered. The idea of Haymitch interrogating Peeta in some sort of misguided attempt at protectiveness makes her intensely uncomfortable, but she lifts her eyes to Peeta anyway, silently asking him to dinner while also silently wishing he would decline.

He only nods as Haymitch cackles his way out the door.

"What was that all about?" Peeta asks when Haymitch is gone.

"Oh, Haymitch being Haymitch. Seems we're the talk of the town and he was here investigating."

"Talk of the town, huh? Seriously?"

"Unfortunately. But I'm no stranger to being town fodder. I think I was pretty much the main topic when I first came back all the way until after Hope was born. I've learned to ignore it the best I can." She shrugs and lifts a hand to Peeta's face. She finds the dusting of stubble that lines his jaw incredibly attractive, but it's the dark circles that underline his eyes that give her pause. She rubs the pad of her thumb gently over the soft skin.

He can't keep himself from leaning into her touch or keep the slight sigh from escaping his mouth.

"You look so tired, Peeta. Aren't you sleeping well?" A short staccato of a laugh leaves him at her question and he takes her hand in his.

"Sleep? What's that? Nah, I don't sleep too much these days, Katniss. But I'm ok. You ready to go?"

He knows he's avoiding and he knows she knows he's avoiding. Her pursed lips tell him she wants to know more, but she doesn't push and he's grateful. Instead she leads him to the stack of containers and bags so they can head to the party.

The front office of Twelve Oaks Elementary is bustling with activity when they sign in at the office. Peeta's stomach involuntarily turns and sweat breaks out along his hairline.

_Why did I agree to this? _

It's so unlike him to have these thoughts. This is not who he is. But he cannot stop the thought that he just wants to get the hell out of here from circling unbidden in his mind.

They make their way through the familiar hallways of the school. It's quiet in the hallways, but Christmas music and laughter filter through the doors of almost all of the classrooms they pass. Today is not a day for learning, but celebrating.

Peeta tries to relax. He draws in long, deep breaths as he walks. One inhale for every few steps he takes., followed by a long exhale after a few more. But it's doing little to ease the thrumming in his veins.

Katniss hears him. She used to do the same thing. If she's honest, she still does. As a naturally shy person she has practiced calming breathing for most of her life. She never imagined someone like Peeta would have to do that. He's always had such a natural, commanding presence about him. She has to remind herself that he's different now.

"I'm so grateful to your dad for playing Santa today. The kids are going to be so surprised and happy. I just hope Hope doesn't recognize him," she says, hoping to distract him from whatever he's thinking about.

"He was thrilled you asked. He loves kids. I think if he had the time he'd play Santa at the mall every year."

"You know, I love your dad. He really is one of the best men I've ever met."

"I've been meaning to ask how you and my father…and my brothers, for that matter, have gotten so close." Katniss chuckles, and puts the box she's carrying on the floor outside Hope's classroom. They are about 10 minutes early and the kids are gathered quietly around Ms. Trinket for a story. Peeta does the same with his bags and steps closer to Katniss while they wait in the hall to be called inside.

"Well, I was a little overwhelmed when Sae and I were trying to open Chapter Twelve." She pauses, looking shyly up at him. Her voice is low so he steps closer to her, their arms brushing against each other. "I guess it was obvious how lost I was, and he just showed up one day offering to help. I refused about a million times and then one day, after a particularly hard day of juggling the store and a newborn, he said to me, 'Katniss, it's ok to ask for help. I was a single parent, too. I know how hard it can be. Let me help,' and that was it. I broke down right there - bawled my eyes out on his shirtfront. I don't know. He kind of just became a part of our lives, one day at a time. Your brothers, too. Rye mostly. I just knew if I needed something, I could go to them. Most days I was…am…too stubborn to ask for help, but knowing they're there makes all the difference."

Peeta feels a pang of jealously. It sits hot and heavy in his gut as he imagines his brother spending time with Katniss the way he has been the last few weeks. His hands clench at his sides, an irrational ball of jealousy wrapped in anger ballooning inside him.

"Rye, huh?" is all he says, and it comes out more of a growl than anything. Katniss immediately senses he's gotten the wrong impression. She's both insulted and turned on by the possession she hears in his voice. Her natural instinct would normally be to strike back with something equally insulting, but she thinks better of it. He's been so on edge lately she doesn't want to add to it, and she knows Peeta didn't really mean it like that. So instead of poking at him she lays a hand on his arm and tries to clarify.

"He's been a good friend."

"Like me?" he asks, the word 'friend' not sitting well with him at all. Somehow he manages to close what little distance there is between them even further. Katniss' breath hitches and she has trouble finding her voice. When she does locate it, it comes out breathy and shallow and completely unlike her.

"No. Not like you at all."

He leans his forearm on the wall beside her and leans into her, his other hand coming up to rest on the line of her jaw. He briefly notices he's not shaking anymore. The anxiety and anger he'd been feeling has been replaced by poignant desire. He traces delicate circles with his thumb over her cheek. She can't help but lean into his hand, eyes fluttering closed as heat spreads through her like wildfire.

"We're friends, aren't we?" He's so close she can practically taste the mint on his breath as it feathers across her face. And she can't speak. She can't even think. Eyes wide, she shakes her head and then nods, unsure of what the question was. He smirks, whatever tension he felt a moment ago buried underneath the mounting need he feels welling inside.

"Are we friends, Katniss?" His mouth is so close now all she'd have to do is tilt her face and his lips would be on hers.

The click of the classroom door opening and Ms. Trinkets sing-song voice obliterates the moment. All the breath Katniss has in her whooshes out as she and Peeta break abruptly apart.

"Oh! You're here! How wonderful, today is going to be a big, big, big day! The children are so excited," Ms. Trinket says, completely unaware of the moment she just ruined. She chatters on as she leads them into the classroom.

Katniss doesn't know whether she's annoyed or thankful. Had she really been about to kiss Peeta outside her daughters Kindergarten classroom?

Hope rushes to them as soon as they enter the classroom. She throws her arms around Katniss in an exuberant, although brief, hug and then takes Peeta's hand and introduces him to everyone in the room. Katniss watches as all the girls, Ms. Trinket included, flit and flutter around him and all the little boys look at him as if he's a superhero with a bionic leg. Peeta's smile couldn't be brighter and Katniss melts a little more inside.

Her mind wanders as she sets up the goodies and gifts. This thing with Peeta, whatever it is, because it's obvious now neither of them think of the other as just a friend, is rapidly spinning out of her control. She cannot deny anymore the feelings he's stirring inside of her. And she cannot deny how much the sight of him with her daughter makes her long for more.

"Peeta has always had a way with children. They flock to him like bees to honey," Marcus says from behind her as he sneaks into the room. She doesn't have any time to respond because the children begin to shriek and clamor around him when they see him decked out as Santa.

Marcus' booming voice echoes' throughout the classroom as he laughs and says "ho, ho, ho" while the children dance merrily around him. He was made for this part. His twinkling eyes, round belly and joyfully deep voice make for a perfect Santa.

Other parents, mothers mostly, gather in the classroom and soon the room is so filled with people Peeta feels his anxiety levels creep up. He'd been fine when it was just the kids, but now that the room is swimming with adults, camera flashes and noise his comfort level is plummeting.

"Peeta, what a surprise to see you here!" He turns to the voice. A petite brunette with sharp features and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose is beaming up at him. He has to think for a moment who she is. Cheerleader. What was her name? He frantically searches his memory for her name and when it finally comes to him he feels a little bad. He'd actually been on a couple of dates with her junior year. Clove Matthews.

A knot forms in Katniss' stomach as she watches Clove run a flirtatious finger down Peeta's arm. She doesn't like how close she's standing to him. It takes everything in her not to walk over there. But he isn't really hers. It feels like he's hers…especially after what happened in the hall, but she really has no claim on him.

She's so confused. She pushes down the sting of jealously and busies herself by helping to usher the kids to sit on Santa's lap for a quick picture before he reads them "The Night Before Christmas."

The next time Katniss' eyes fall on the corner of the room where Peeta is, he is surrounded by several more women. They're like coyotes circling a kill. Just like his father with the kids, the women are practically giddy with excitement at seeing him. The only difference is that Peeta looks intensely uncomfortable as they fire question after question at him. He shuffles his feet, running a shaking hand through his hair, eyes darting around the room. How can they not feel his discomfort? Katniss can feel it from across the room.

"Katniss, darling, thank you so much for doing this. Your young man and his father are just wonderful and so handsome, too," Ms. Trinket coos. She continues to drabble on about everything as she samples some of the treats on the table. Katniss is happy she is so pleased, but she honestly isn't listening. On a good day, Ms. Trinket is hard to stomach with her overly cheery demeanor and cotton candy nails and matching fuzzy sweater, but today she has other things on her mind. Her attention is firmly on the man on the other side of the room who is clearly about to crawl out of his skin.

"Ms. Trinket, please excuse me," she says when she sees Peeta push his way out of the room. She shares a worried glance with Marcus that tells her he saw the expression on his son's face as well before quickly following Peeta into the hallway.

She catches up with him around a corner at the end of the hall where he has slid down the wall and is sitting on the floor with his head resting on his bent knees. She approaches him slowly. The closer she gets to him the more she can see just how badly he's shaking.

"Peeta? Are you ok?"

"I'm sorry, Katniss. I shouldn't have come."

Katniss slides down the wall next to him, sitting close enough so their bodies touch, and nudges him with her shoulder.

"Peeta, you've been wonderful. The kids adored you."

"Until I ran out of there a shaking puddle of sweat," he mumbles miserably into his knees.

"Well, there is that," she says with a chuckle. Peeta lifts his head from his knees and eyes her warily. "Come on, Peeta, don't be so hard on yourself. I'd want to run out of there screaming if I was surrounded by all those blithering idiots." At that he chuckles, too, albeit softly. He leans his head back against the wall and stares at the ceiling for a moment.

"But that just isn't me, Katniss." He sighs as he finally starts to feel his body settle again. "I don't know who I am anymore."

"You're Peeta Mellark."

He cuts his eyes down at her and smirks.

"Thanks."

"No, really, Peeta. You're still you. It's just right now things are affecting you differently. But you're still you. And I like who you are."

"Because we're friends?" He lifts his eyebrows when she nods. She blushes as he drapes his arm over her shoulder and pulls her into his side, breathing her in. Everything inside him stills. How does she do that? How can just being close to her put him at ease again?

"I gotta be honest with you, Katniss, I'm not feeling very friendly right now."

She lifts her head from his shoulder and meets his eyes. What she finds in those azure pools stops her heart.

And has her scrambling to her feet.

The suddenness of her movements almost sends him back into a panic. Had he read her wrong? He thought she was feeling the same things as he was. But when she grabs his hands and pulls him to his feet, his panic ebbs.

"I'm not sixteen anymore, Mellark. I'm not going to make out with you between classes in the hall. You're going to have to do better than that." She lifts a coy eyebrow at him as she drags him back to the classroom.

He pulls her to a stop when they reach the door and leans down to whisper into her ear.

"You want to make out with me, huh?" The cute little giggle that bubbles out of her makes him want to push her against the cubby of coats by the door regardless of all the people around. Everything about this woman makes him feel so good.

"Maybe," she says sweetly before slipping away from him and into the classroom, leaving him wanting, if not a little frustrated in the hall.

Somehow he's able to keep his anxiety at bay as they clean up and everyone gradually filters out of the classroom ready to start a nice long winter break.

He throws Hope's tiny backpack over his shoulder and takes the bag of empty containers from Katniss' hand as they say goodbye to a gushing Ms. Trinket.

Hope squeezes herself between them as they walk out of the building, slipping her tiny hands into each of theirs. Peeta smiles down at Hope and winks at Katniss, his heart swelling at the simple gesture of the little girl. How is it these two girls turned the desperate hopelessness he'd been feeling this morning into the surprising contentment he's feeling now? He's not sure how it happened or what he did to deserve it, but he knows without a doubt he doesn't want it to stop.

* * *

_**AN:**_

_**I just wanted to thank all of you for the follows, favorites and reviews/PM's for this story. I apologize for the wait on this update - life got in the way, but hopefully now that the holidays are over I can get back on a regular writing schedule again.**_

_**A special thanks to I-Say-Wicked (it's been awhile, but I finally got to use 'flak jacket' - lol - I'll be in touch again) and, as always, a huge thank you to Katnissinme for her incomparable beta skills.**_

_**my tumblr: libertysueisstardusttoo  
**_

_**Reviews are appreciated (especially since I don't know what to think about this chapter.) Thanks!  
**_


	6. Chapter 6

"Peeta!" Hope shouts when he strides into Katniss' apartment, arms loaded down with bags from the bakery. Hope's excitement bubbles over in the questions she fires at him. She pulls him by the hand to show him the things she's been working so diligently on for the last thirty minutes, chattering on about learning to draw kittens and puppies. Hope had been so excited Peeta was coming over for dinner that she set up all her art supplies on the coffee table in the living room and situated herself so she had a direct line of sight to the front door so she'd be the first to see him come in.

There's a niggling feeling at the back of Katniss' mind that she can't quite squelch telling her Hope is getting way too attached to Peeta, way too quickly. But she really can't blame her daughter. Katniss, too, is being swept away by the handsome man standing in her living room positively beaming at her daughter - who is now firmly held in his strong arms.

It seems like Hope is always finding ways to get into Peeta's arms.

It's been a couple of weeks since they last spent any real time together. Being the holidays, Katniss had felt like she was traveling at warp speed and had little to no time left over for anything other than a cup of tea and her bed by the time the days were over. Peeta also kept making excuses, which she understood. The holidays are a busy time at the bakery, and she knew from both Marcus and Rye that they were all putting in extra hours. She'd also asked him if he wanted to come to dinner at the Hawthorne's for Christmas Eve, but he declined, citing his awkward display at Hope's Christmas party. Katniss wanted to reassure him about that day, but she also didn't want to push. She would wait for him.

So, while the holidays sped by, they made due with brief visits and phone calls. Very frustrating phone calls and too short visits that left her wishing the holidays away.

"When's Haymitch getting here?" Peeta says as he comes to stand next to Katniss by the stove, Hope still perched on his right hip. He slides his left arm around her shoulder and pulls her into the warmth of his body, kissing the top of her head in greeting.

Haymitch is another thing she tried wishing away. She'd tried, unsuccessfully, to deter her uncle from this dinner, but he was insistent that they keep this dinner date, even though it had been pushed back twice because of their conflicting schedules.

"About a half hour, I guess," she says glancing at the clock on the stove. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous and a bit apprehensive about this little get together and when she lifts the spoon to Peeta's mouth for a taste of spaghetti sauce she notices the spoon shaking in her grip. "Taste."

"Mommy makes the best basghetti ever," Hope whispers in Peeta's ear.

"Mmm, yes, she does," he says, winking at Katniss. "Scratch?"

"If you call scratch sauce from a jar with a little bit of extra stuff in it, then yes."

"Sounds good to me," he chuckles, and jostles Hope a little. "What about you, cupcake?"

He looks happy, Katniss thinks, as Peeta and Hope continue a constant back and forth conversation. So much so that the corners of his eyes crinkle when Hope says something to earn a particularly robust guffaw from him. Katniss watches, mesmerized, as his tongue darts out to lick the excess sauce from his lips as he smiles broadly. She likes the way he looks in her kitchen holding her daughter.

He can feel her eyes on him. Hell, he can feel everything about her.

Peeta sets Hope down on the tiled floor.

"What do you say you draw me something, cupcake? I think I'm going to help your mom in the kitchen for awhile. Think you can do that?" he says, kneeling down to look her in the eye. He feels bad about purposefully dismissing her, but he's been looking forward to getting Katniss alone for days now.

"Kitties! I learned how to draw kitties in art! I can show you!" She dances on her toes for a moment before disappearing into the living room, oblivious to the heat passing between the adults.

"She's been so excited to see you. She's missed seeing you," Katniss says quietly. She turns back to the sauce simmering on the stove and runs her spoon slowly through it, hoping he doesn't see just how much she's missed him being here written all over her face.

Peeta straightens to his full height behind her before settling his hands on either side of her, trapping her against the stove. He leans in and uses his chin to move a strand of hair from her shoulder. "I missed her, too." Her body betrays her by breaking out in goose bumps when his words tickle her neck. "And you…I missed you, too."

Katniss' eyes fall closed and her head lolls to the side, reflexively allowing him more access. He hasn't even touched her yet and already she's a quivering mess. His name falls from her lips with a plea.

"Katniss, when are you going to let me kiss you?"

He wants to touch her. The way the collar of her shirt falls loosely over her shoulder, exposing the soft, silky expanse drives him to distraction. He'd give anything to run the flat of his tongue from the tip of her shoulder, over the curve of her neck and right to the shell of her ear. Instead he settles for breathing her in, hovering just over the skin, the tendrils of her scent sliding inside him and knotting around his heart.

"I…we…" She can't hold on to any words. They fade just as quickly as they appear. "…Hope…"

Peeta grips Katniss' hips, gently easing her around so he can see her face and the emotion passing over it. Her hands come up to fist in his sweatshirt to push him away or pull him closer, he does not know.

"Surely she's seen you kiss a man before?" his voice lifts in question. When she shakes her head his mouth drops slightly open in wonder.

"I don't really bring men around, Peeta. She gets attached…as you can tell…and I just…," she pauses. He can tell she's deciding how much she wants to divulge. "I've always kept that part of my life separate - what little bit of it there was. I never wanted a man around…until you…"

She lets that last part hang, wondering if she's said too much. He has to know how much he means to her. Right? Isn't it obvious? Can't he feel the way her heart trips over itself every time he's near?

But he's too quiet. He's watching her too intently. She fidgets under his scrutiny, tries to move away, but his hands only tighten on her hips.

"I just think she needs stability, you know. I don't want her inadvertently learning from me that men always leave," she rambles on, looking everywhere but his eyes. It's better that it's out now, though. He needs to know where she stands. "I need to be sure…before…," she straightens and smoothes her hands over the wrinkles her fisted hands created in his sweatshirt. "…before…you know…I just…say something, please…" she pleads feeling more than a little awkward, and rests her forehead on his chest.

Peeta understands the sentiment. Doesn't necessarily like it, but understands it all the same.

Hope comes first. Always.

"I'm a mess, Katniss," he says, thinking just how unstable he actually is, and how he should definitely _not _take this any further right now. It would be better for them if he wasn't around at all, but he's not sure he's capable of that.

He feels her sigh sadly against him and he releases her hips, but instead of moving away, as his head is urging him to do, he circles her body with his arms and pulls her flush against him. Relief floods him when her arms snake around him and her cheek settles over his heart.

"But I'm not going anywhere."

"Ooo, hugs! Me too, me too! I like hugs, too!" Hope says, holding her arms up when she appears from the living room, a drawing clutched tightly in her hands. Peeta reluctantly releases Katniss and lifts Hope between them, settling her on his hip as she sneaks her little arms around each of their necks for a tight hug.

Haymitch is not pleased when he finds them all still locked in the embrace, smiling and laughing at the paper Hope holds between them, and clears his throat loudly, forcing their attention to him.

"'Aymitch!" Hope squeals before scrambling off Peeta and running to him. "Look what I drawed! Kitties!"

The smile that creeps onto his face is meant only for Hope, and he lets Katniss and Peeta know it with the hard glare he sends their way. What Haymitch saw when he came through the door was exactly what he'd been afraid of and exactly why he had insisted on having dinner with them all. He wanted to see first-hand how far things had progressed between Katniss and the boy.

Haymitch has had his ear to the ground for any news concerning Peeta Mellark. He'd heard whispering here and there, but the information was unusually small considering how even the tiniest snippet normally burns up the wires in this podunk town. He'd only heard of the boy being in public two times since he'd been back, and both those times he'd been with Katniss. Two times in as many months meant he was shutting himself away, and for a Mellark that was damn unusual. They were a very visible family. Pillars of the community, even, though that term made Haymitch cringe a little. Everyone knew Marcus Mellark and his sons. Peeta being a hometown hero should have made for a party in the rumor mill.

But the only time he heard about Peeta Mellark, Katniss' name usually followed, and Haymitch didn't like that one bit.

"I don't think your uncle likes me very much," Peeta says as he walks to the table, pulling his black sweatshirt over his head, folding it into a neat square and placing it over the back of one of the chairs.

"Never mind him. He's a cranky old bastard who doesn't like anyone. You shouldn't take offense."

Katniss gets an onion from the pantry and then some carrots and celery from the crisper in the refrigerator and places them in a pile on the island.

"I don't know," he says, rubbing uneasily at the back of his neck. "I think it's more than that." He lets the subject drop. He doesn't really care if Haymitch likes him or not, he just hopes whatever problem the older man has with him doesn't disrupt tonight's dinner.

Peeta watches as Katniss awkwardly cuts the onion with a little paring knife. When she lifts the back of her hand to wipe at her teary eyes, he takes the knife from her hand.

"Here, let me," he says, setting the little knife in the sink and retrieving a chefs knife from the block on the counter. "The easiest way to cut vegetables is with something big. That tiny thing will just end up cutting you and not the veg. See," he says, cutting an onion in half and then turning it on the flat side. "Just slice against the grain in whatever size you want your pieces. Then with the grain…voila…perfectly diced onion."

Katniss eyes the little pile of squares on the cutting board. It usually takes her at least twice as long to cut an onion. And, he didn't shed one tear. She folds her arms over her chest and scowls at him. She's not above admitting she's a little miffed at how easy that was for him. He smirks when he sees her face.

"What?" He tries to stifle the snicker that threatens to sneak out.

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

"You learn a lot of things growing up without a mother," he says with a chuckle. "We all helped with the cooking. I'm very domesticated."

Katniss laughs at that and watches as he slides the knife easily through the rest of the vegetables. Why hadn't she ever thought of using the big knife? It never occurred to her. Her mom always used the little one, so she always did. Not that a lot of cutting ever happened in her kitchen. She was more of a bag salad type girl…or a walk down to the café and just eat the stuff Sae had already made kind of girl. She can admit - to herself - that she had been trying to impress Peeta tonight by attempting to actually cook and prepare everything.

So much for that.

She wants to ask about his mother. She's always been more than a little curious, but she never felt it was her place to ask. Rumors were prevalent in school. Katniss never believed the ones where people said she was in jail, dead or in a mental ward, and she never wanted to believe the ones about Marcus throwing Moira Mellark out for beating her boys. But that last one was so common Katniss always believed that was the most likely of them all.

"Did your dad ever bring home women?" This is another thing Katniss wondered about. How is it possible no woman had scooped up arguably the most eligible bachelor in town. Marcus is funny, kind and very good-looking. A solid catch all the way around.

"Not really. He dated - um, dates - I guess, but I think my mother kind of ruined him."

"Ruined him?"

"Maybe that's the wrong word, but he has trust issues. I don't really remember her. I was only five when he threw her out for kicking the shit out of Marc and then turning a rolling pin on me. Luckily Dad caught her before she actually got to me. Needless to say, he doesn't let anyone very close. He always said he had me and my brothers, and that was all he needed."

Katniss nods her head, understanding that very well. She always thought that same thing about Hope - at least until Peeta walked into her life.

* * *

Dinner is quiet. Unusually so. Haymitch hasn't said more than two words to anyone but Hope since he entered the apartment. He sat with Hope in the living room while Peeta and Katniss finished preparing dinner, but Katniss could feel his eyes on them the whole time. Watching. Observing. Studying.

It was unnerving.

As they sit around the table, silverware clinking on the plates as they eat, Katniss tries to engage Haymitch in conversation, asking him about work or his friends down at the VFW, but his answers are clipped and often one syllable in length. Even Hope senses something is not quite right, her usual effervescence largely subdued.

"So, this weather is crazy, isn't it?" Katniss says, trying another angle to get everyone talking.

"I hear they're calling for thunderstorms," Peeta chimes in, easing Katniss' discomfort.

"In January…very unusual. The weather guys are having a field day."

"And that wind! It's like the screen door on the house is going to fly off the hinges! And then there's supposed to be more snow by Wednesday. Crazy."

"So, boy, how have things been? How's that anxiety treating you? You been down to the VA yet?" Haymitch breaks in, suddenly. Katniss' eyes go wide and everyone turns their attention to Haymitch.

"Haymitch! That's none of your business!" Katniss shouts, mortification coloring her cheeks. Peeta's hand finds her knee under the table and squeezes reassuringly despite the dramatic shift in conversation. He knows what Haymitch is doing. If he were in Haymitch's position, and someone like him was sniffing around his girls, he's sure he'd want to know the same things.

After all, Haymitch has been in the very same position as Peeta.

"No, sir. I have not."

"Why not?" he grouses.

"Haymitch, now really isn't the time," Katniss says between her teeth, her eyes cutting in Hope's direction, but Haymitch ignores her, and waits for an answer from Peeta.

"They only put me on dru…" he searches for a better word, glancing at Hope, who is raptly watching the volley of words. "Medicine that I, um, don't like. They make me feel numb. I don't like not having control of my senses, which is also why I don't drink in excess," he says, glancing to the glass of whiskey sitting in front of Haymitch. "Plus, the meds they hand out make the dreams worse."

Haymitch nods, appreciating the boy's honesty.

"The dreams pretty bad?"

"Most days, yes."

"How many men did you lose over there?" Haymitch lets his voice soften to something bordering on kind, gentle even, but Katniss doesn't miss the way Peeta stiffens. Her gaze hardens at Haymitch.

"Too many, sir. Twenty-one this last tour. Seven that last day." Haymitch nods. The table is plunged into silence. Katniss knows enough from the things she's read the last couple of months that usually only eight men are on a routine patrol. Her heart seizes.

Peeta was the only survivor that day.

"I lost my bear last week," Hope's voice rings through the quiet. "Mommy found it. Maybe she could help find your men. She's good at findin' stuff." Katniss' eyes fall closed and Peeta's hand tightens on her thigh.

"I bet she is, cupcake, thanks." The smile Peeta gives Hope breaks Katniss' heart.

"Ok, chickie, let's get you cleaned up." Katniss pushes her chair back and gets up. Before she goes to Hope, however, she circles Peeta's neck with her arms and whispers in his ear, "I'm sorry," and then shoots a death glare at Haymitch before taking Hope's hand and leading her to the bathroom.

An uncomfortable silence fills the dining room after Katniss and Hope leave. Haymitch taps the side of his plate with his knife. Peeta readies to stand and clear the table, sick of the questions, but the sound of Haymitch's gruff voice stops him.

"Hope is somethin', ain't she? Ain't no one more special than that little girl."

It's a seemingly innocuous statement, but Peeta doesn't miss the threat behind the words. He sighs and sits heavily back in his seat, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck in frustration. He's tried to contain his rising anger all evening. It hasn't been easy, but he did it. For Katniss. And now that they are alone the anger he had been barely successful at pushing down is beginning to bubble to the surface again. But he swallows it down again, still not willing to prove the old man right by letting the conversation degenerate into a full-blown argument.

"Look, I've held my tongue all night and I've answered all your questions, _sir, _and not that it's any of your concern, but I'm not in the business of hurting little girls."

"Never said you were, boy. But, Hope's not the only one I'm worried about." Haymitch levels Peeta with a withering stare before standing from his seat and taking his plate to the sink.

When he comes back to the table he has another lowball glass and a bottle of whiskey in his hands. He sets the glass in front of Peeta, pours them each two fingers and then takes the seat next to Peeta instead of the one across from him he occupied during dinner.

"I've been where you are, Peeta," Haymitch says softly, staring at his glass as he swishes the brown liquid around. "The night terrors, anxiety, anger…I've been there. I'm not judging. But it's usually those closest to you that get hurt the most. I'm just lookin' out for my girls. They're all I got."

"Understood, sir."

"Oh, quit with the 'sir' shit. I ain't your superior and it makes me feel goddamned old."

The silence that fills the room is slightly more comfortable - an unspoken cease-fire having been offered.

A few minutes later Katniss finds them still at the table, Haymitch silently knocking back his whiskey while Peeta swirls his around his glass, both staring mindlessly at the table, lost in thought.

Hope climbs into Peeta's lap and hugs his neck. If Haymitch is bothered by Hope choosing Peeta over him, he doesn't show it. He sets his glass on the table, stands and grabs his coat from the hook by the door.

"Dinner was excellent, sweetheart," he calls to Katniss, who has busied herself in the kitchen, too angry to be around her uncle.

Hope runs to Haymitch and holds her arms out for a hug. He hugs her and holds his hand out to Peeta.

"You're always welcome at the VFW, kid. Sometimes it's nice to be around guys who have been there."

Peeta nods and shakes his hand.

"Well, that was interesting," Peeta says after Haymitch is gone, exhaustion filling his voice.

"I'm so sorry, Peeta. I can't believe he did that!"

"Don't worry about it, Katniss. I'd do the same thing if I were in his shoes."

"But it's none of his business. You don't owe him any explanations…especially with Hope in the room. I don't know what he was thinking!" she says, throwing the dishcloth into the sink causing soap bubbles to fly all over the counter, her face coloring with anger.

"He was thinking he loves you." Peeta takes her soapy hand, pulls her to him and runs a finger down the deep crease in her forehead her scowl is making. "Really, it's fine. No harm, no foul."

She leans back against the sink and sighs heavily, not convinced. She's still so angry at Haymitch, but underneath that a deep sadness pulses through her from knowing just how much Peeta lost on the battlefield. Her heart aches for him. No wonder he doesn't sleep.

"Seriously, Katniss, let's just finish these dishes and watch a movie or something. I'm fine. I'm not upset. He was being a good uncle."

"No, he's being a nosy, intrusive bastard," she states, turning back to the sink and scrubbing roughly at a sauce pan. Peeta shakes his head and laughs at her stubbornness.

He's happy to be back here. Even happier than he ever thought possible. The last couple of weeks had been extremely hard. His only saving grace had been how busy he'd been with work. He'd been plagued with nightmares every night and unrelenting thoughts of his men during the days. Holidays were hard. They brought up so many sentiments he'd been trying so hard to stuff away.

He had missed these easy evenings with Katniss and Hope, where everything seems to flow so simply and his demons are more easily locked away. He can focus on them instead of things that are better left in the past. He can relax.

She's just got a way. He doesn't know what it is. He doesn't care. She just heals something in him when she's near.

The rain begins as they settle on the couch for a movie after the kitchen is cleaned, a bowl of popcorn between them and Hope lounging on her beanbag in front of the TV. Hope has chosen "Tangled" for the night's feature, which is fine with Peeta. He couldn't care less what movie is on, as long as Katniss is curled up next to him. He pulls her to him. She lays her head on his chest, enjoying how he seems to surround her.

The soft rain pelting the windows and roof has Peeta's eyes drooping, and before Flynn Rider even scales the side of the tower, Peeta is snoring softly beside Katniss. She takes comfort in the steady beat of his heart and rise and fall of his chest, knowing how hard it is for him to find rest, grateful she is able to provide him some peace.

The rain shifts from a gentle patter to a downpour, and the low rumble of thunder ushers in flashes of lightening as the winter thunderstorm moves closer.

Katniss gently lifts Peeta's heavy arm and quietly eases away, careful not to disturb him.

"Baby, I need to run down-stairs and unplug the espresso machine," Katniss says quietly, kneeling down next to Hope. "Will you be ok up here with Peeta? I'll only be a minute." Last summer when they had a bad storm a fuse had blown and knocked out the espresso machine in the café. It had cost a small fortune to replace, so now they always unplug it during storms just in case.

Hope nods, not really caring because she's completely engrossed in the movie, and Katniss disappears down the steps to the deserted café.

She's not gone five minutes before she hears Hope shriek after a particularly loud crash of thunder. She bolts up the stairs, taking them two at a time, nearly stumbling over the last two in her haste.

What she finds when she crashes through the door breaks her heart.

Peeta paces the room, murmuring incoherently, locked in a flashback. He has Hope pressed to him, his arms covering her almost completely. His large hand covers her head as he protectively presses it into his shoulder, shielding her. Before Katniss can say anything another ear-splitting roar of thunder fills the room, sending Peeta to the floor, cowering by the arm of the couch.

Hope screams again, not understanding what is happening.

Katniss rushes to them and yells Peeta's name, trying desperately to break him from the hold the flashback has on his mind.

"Peeta!"

Hope sobs in his arms.

"Peeta!" Katniss yells again, shaking him. Finally, he looks her way. His eyes are hollow and glassy. She grabs his face to make him focus on her.

"Peeta, look at me!"

Slowly, his eyes focus, and his hold on Hope lessens. Katniss peals his arms from her daughter and gathers the frightened child to her side. A look of pure horror blankets Peeta's face as he realizes what just happened.

"Oh, god," is all he says before he collapses onto his knees and sobs into his hands.

Katniss quickly checks Hope over. Other than being scared, she seems fine, but still clings to Katniss' side. Katniss hugs her to her side while pulling Peeta's shaking body into her other side. He won't look at her as the sobs rack his body.

"Peeta, it's ok. Hope is ok." She rubs his back and shushes him, trying to get him to calm down. But it's as if something has broken inside him.

"I -I was there a-again…so s-sorry…oh god...d-did I h-hurt her?" he stammers into his hands between sobs.

"No, honey, you didn't." Hope releases Katniss' side and slowly climbs into Peeta's lap, circling her little arms around his body the best she can. A choked sobs escapes Katniss as she marvels at her brave daughter. She pulls them into her and holds on, one hand stroking Hope's curls, the other clutching Peeta to her.

Katniss doesn't know how much time passes as they stay huddled together on the floor, the storm still raging around them. But she wonders over and over how they are ever going to be able to handle this.

Because Peeta needs so much more help than she realized. More than she can possibly give him.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note:_

_I'm so sorry about the wait on this one. I've had some serious computer problems the last 2 weeks. Devastating problems that almost made me give up completely. Hopefully, this is worth the wait, though._

_I also changed my tumblr again. I'm OfDustAndStars now. Come visit me!  
_

_I'd also like to thank I-Say-Wicked for her time and help. You are amazing.  
_

_On another note - It was brought to my attention (thank you Louezem) that not all of you are Americans and might not know what some of my acronyms are. I apologize for that, too! Anyway - the VA is the Veteran's Administration. It's a government agency that is there to help returning vets and their families. Everything from health care to home loans, the VA is supposed to be there to help. In regards to this story, when you recv health benefits/care as a vet you almost always have to go through the VA. _

_The VFW is the Veterans of Foreign Wars. For lack of a better word, the VFW is kind of like a club. It's not government related. They're a private organization made up of, you guessed it, veterans of foreign wars. They provide community and support for all military veterans. It's a great, philanthropic organization that is there to help our soldiers when they need it most. Most of the "posts" have bars and the guys go there to socialize. That's what my uncle's do...that's what Haymitch does. More than anything, though, organizations like the VFW help when the government (the VA) drops the ball when our guys come home. One of the things that made me want to write this is it always seems like our guys (and women) are forgotten once they get home and so many are struggling through some really horrifying experiences. **More military men and women committed suicide last year than died in Afghanistan** and yet nothing (or not nearly enough) is being done about it. These men and women have sacrificed everything and yet they are forgotten, unseen and often marginalized or even labeled as psychotic. _

_Anyway, enjoy._

* * *

There are a lot of ways to wish yourself dead. Wishing is different than doing, right? As Peeta stares at the ceiling, unable to extract himself from the image of Hope's crying face, he can't help but wish he'd just disappear, willing himself out of existence. It's an odd combination of wanting to die, but knowing you'll never actually take your own life. He doesn't really want to kill himself, but he wouldn't care if something happened to him. He's been thinking about it since he moment he came out of that damn flashback with Katniss yelling his name, and Hope crying in his arms. What he did was unforgivable and he can't stop thinking that he just doesn't want to be this person anymore.

Does that make him suicidal? Not really. Maybe. Probably. He doesn't really care.

When his phone buzzes on the nightstand beside him, he lets it go to voicemail. It's just his brother, anyway, calling to bitch him out for not showing up to work again this morning. It's lucky he works for his father, because he sure as hell wouldn't still have a job if he didn't. Peeta knows the days he spends all day in bed are unfair to both his father and his brother, but he can't bring himself to care, and today it's a hundred times worse. He had thought things were going to be ok. Every day seemed to be progressing in a way that made it seem like maybe one day he would be able to make it through a whole day without drowning in a pit of despair. The difference had been Katniss. He had fallen fast and hard for the girl with the penetrating, diamond eyes, his days just that much easier when she was with him. But after last night…well…that's over now, and he has no idea how he's ever going to face her again.

"Peet, come on, son," his dad says through the door for at least the hundredth time. "Rye needs us at the bakery. You're worrying me, son."

Peeta pulls the pillow from behind his head and covers his face, muffling the scream he can't hold inside. He doesn't want to worry his father, but pulling himself from this bed feels like trying to escape quicksand. God, he hates what he's become.

"Let me take a shower, Dad," he says, knowing he has to pull it together for his father's sake. The screen on his phone comes to life with the voicemail message alert. Katniss' picture stares back at him. He runs his thumb over her smiling face, his eyes stinging and clouding, the pit in his stomach only growing bigger.

The water is scalding as he steps beneath the spray. It's a shock to the system he enjoys. A stark contrast from the frigid air he has seeping from his open window in the bedroom. He just wishes it was enough of a shock to quell the turmoil roiling through him. He can't keep the thoughts of her away when he's like this. He doesn't really want to, because he can't help but feel like this is it - this is as close as he will ever get to being with her now that he's ruined everything. He runs his hand down his rock-hard shaft as the scalding water pelts the ridged muscles of his back. It's torture. It hurts to picture the slope of her neck, the perfect swell of her breasts and know he will only ever get to be with her in this mind while he strokes himself. He wishes he could picture someone else, get the picture out of his head, but as his climax rushes through him, leaving him shuddering, he knows it will always be her and only her.

* * *

The night hadn't been any easier on Katniss. She is exhausted. Bone-deep, achy, exhausted. She lays her head on her crossed arms in front of her computer monitor and sighs heavily as the memory of Peeta clutching Hope while the thunderstorm raged around them assaults her again. She had tossed and turned all night, her mind never allowing respite from the memory. And now, in the bright light of day, it still won't relent.

It had been frightening. Watching him struggle as his mind kept him locked in a battle thousands of miles away had scared her to her core. It wasn't that she thought Peeta would hurt Hope. No, she didn't think that at all, because every time Katniss had been witness to one of Peeta's flashbacks his first instinct was to protect, not to hurt.

No, it had been frightening because it showed the depth of his wounds and she had no idea how to help him.

Not only that, but she had felt him pulling away immediately. His eyes seemed hollow and vacant and he kept apologizing, saying he didn't mean to hurt Hope. No amount of words could convince him otherwise. It was like he couldn't hear anything but the voices in his head telling him he'd hurt her and by the time she finished putting Hope to bed, Peeta had left. No goodbyes or anything. Just gone.

Everything inside her was shouting for her to go see him, but she wasn't entirely sure if she would be welcome.

A soft knock on her office door has her head jerking up and she runs a finger over the track pad of her laptop so it at least looks like she attempted to do something today.

Katniss is surprised to see Rye poke his head in the door. She hasn't seen much of him outside the bakery since Peeta has been home and seeing him now, after everything that happened last night, has a ball of anxiety tightening in her stomach.

"Rye…Hi…what are you doing here?"

"Did something happen with Peeta last night?" He sits across the desk from her, but leans toward her, nervous energy flowing off him in waves. "Dad called me this morning and asked me to come over here. He hasn't come in yet, because apparently Peeta came home last night and lost it - tore his room up - and now he won't come out."

"He…um, Rye…we're ok….if that's what you're thinking…he didn't hurt us." Rye releases a long, relieved breath, and his eyes fall shut in silent thanks. "The storm triggered a flashback while we were watching a movie."

Ryan's eyes snap back open, and bore into her.

"What did he do?"

"Nothing, Ryan, really." She doesn't give any more detail. She doesn't want to, not when she knows Rye and Peeta have been at odds about this very thing since he's been back.

"Something had to have happened, Katniss. He wouldn't have trashed his room otherwise." His voice is harsh and makes her flinch a little and he instantly regrets it. He reaches for her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried. Tell me what happened."

"Honestly, Rye, I think he was probably just embarrassed or even ashamed that he lost control of his mind like that, but he didn't hurt either of us." She pauses to gauge his reaction. "You know I would never put Hope in a situation I thought dangerous. He thought he was back in the war and got confused for awhile. It was scary, seeing him like that, but he did nothing to hurt either of us."

Ryan looks skeptically at Katniss, searching her face.

"Then why do you look so worried?" he asks, quietly.

"Because I didn't realize how bad off he is. I knew he was struggling, Ryan, but I didn't know how deep it went. He needs help. Real help."

"That's what I've been…," he pauses, running a frustrated hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "I know. But he won't listen to Dad and I only seem to set his rage off, and now he's locked himself away…I don't want him to do something he can't take back."

"You don't think he'll hurt himself do you?"

"I don't know anymore, Katniss. We need to convince him to talk to someone. Someone who knows how to handle this type of thing. He'll listen to you. He needs you."

"I don't think he wants to see me. He left without saying good-bye."

"Katniss, I'm pretty sure you're the only one he will listen to. He's different with you. Better. He responds to you in a way he doesn't with anyone else. Please."

"OK, but Hope will be home in a few hours, Rye. I can't just leave…unless you want to pick her up from school?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at him. While Peeta loves kids, Katniss knows the thought of keeping Hope by himself terrifies Rye. It's written all over his face. Not that he's not good with children, and Hope adores him, but child care is not in Rye Mellark's specialty wheelhouse. "That's what I thought. Just give me a minute to figure something out."

Katniss eyes her wall calendar and see's Prim is on shift at the hospital until 7pm tonight, so she's out. Her mother as well. She doesn't even consider Gale or Madge, because the thought of letting Gale in on this problem turns Katniss' stomach. Gale has always been overprotective of Katniss when it's come to men, and while their romantic relationship fizzled and died before they ever made it past a few kisses, Gale has always made it his mission, however unwanted by Katniss, to be her protector regarding men. He'd threatened Seneca's life after that whole mess, and Katniss is sure that had Gale been in the same town as Seneca at that moment, Seneca would have died a slow, painful death. No, she doesn't want Gale Hawthorne knowing anything about Peeta.

That leaves Haymitch. Katniss groans inwardly at the thought. She's still more than a little pissed at him for the scene he caused at dinner.

Haymitch grunts his hello when he picks up the phone.

"Can you pick up Hope from school today?" Katniss is pretty sure the next grunt is a yes. She's gotten pretty good at decoding Haymitch over the years.

"I don't know when I'll be home, but Prim will be off shift at seven if you have something to do."

"Why? You shackin' up with Mellark? If that's the case, I think I'm busy."

"No. Nothing like that." He expects her temper to explode into a stream of curses and insults, but all he hears is defeat and sadness. His blood turns to ice in his veins.

"What happened?" he asks flatly.

She hadn't planned on telling him everything, especially with Rye still sitting opposite from her, but it's as if the flood gates opened and she can't contain the emotion that's been rolling inside her anymore. To Haymitch's credit, he listens without a word to everything that spills from her. Rye reaches across the desk and lays his hand on top of hers, his frown growing deeper with worry with each word she utters.

"I was afraid something like this would happen. I should have known…especially with the storm last night. I still get spooked by the thunder sometimes." He sighs heavily, wishing he didn't know exactly what the boy was going through. "You need to convince him to go to the VA. Call today. He probably will have to wait a few weeks to get in anyway."

"He doesn't want to do that."

"I know and I understand his reluctance, Katniss. They can be assholes there, too and the care isn't always the best, but…," he pauses to gather his thoughts. He doesn't want this for Katniss. If she's going to choose this boy it's going to be a long and difficult path for her. But he also knows that if she's made up her mind, then there will be no changing it. She's going to need as much support as she can get. "…Look, I'll check around. I have a friend, but he's been retired for awhile. I'll see what I can do."

Katniss visibly deflates, all the tension she'd been holding lifted by Haymitch's words.

"Be discreet, Haymitch."

"You don't worry about that, sweetheart. I've lived in this town long enough. I know how to be discreet." He pauses again, and Katniss can practically hear his mind turning over the phone lines. "Are you sure you're up for this, Katniss? He's a good kid, that's clear enough, but it's a lot, sweetheart. It won't be an easy road. It's only been a couple of months. No one would judge you if you cut your losses now and walked away. Is he worth it to you already?"

She doesn't even hesitate.

"Yes."

* * *

Marcus sends Katniss up the stairs to Peeta's room as soon as she arrives. He had hugged her, his eyes traveling over her to make sure she was ok, before asking her what happened. Katniss took his hands in hers and told him they would get through this.

The Mellark home hasn't changed much in the 10 years since she'd been here last. The rooms are still filled with supple leather couches and chairs, complemented by dark mahogany tables and richly colored walls, and she briefly wonders how much Peeta's room has changed. She'd been inside a couple of times for a physics project their senior year. His room had been neat, bed made, clothes put away with football and baseball memorabilia as decoration on the walls. Nothing like Gale's childhood room, which always looked as though a homeless person was squatting there.

It's quiet in the house, no television or radio playing to break up the silence or ease her nerves. When she reaches the landing, she looks back down the stairs at Marcus who nods for her to continue, his face ruddy with worry, urging her to go on. She squares her shoulders and breathes deeply, knowing she shouldn't be this nervous, but with each step she takes closer to his room, Katniss feels the squeeze on her heart tighten just a little bit more. They are friends. Over the last couple of months they have formed a solid friendship - a friendship that was on the verge of moving into something much more. But after last night, she just can't shake the feeling that everything has changed.

Katniss lifts a shaking hand to Peeta's door and lightly taps two times. When she doesn't hear anything behind it, she raps two more times more loudly. She hears him then, his heavy footfalls making the floor tremble beneath her. Katniss jumps back when the door suddenly swings open to reveal a shirtless Peeta rubbing a towel over his wet hair. Any other day she would probably relish a moment to gawk at the way his taut muscles flex beneath his skin as he moves, or the way his jeans hang loosely at his hips - top button still undone - but the angry annoyance in his voice forces her eyes to his.

"Damn it, Dad, I said I'd…," he pauses a moment when he realizes it's Katniss standing opposite him and not his father, "…be down in a minute," he finishes quietly. Peeta turns quickly and grabs a blue flannel shirt from the bedpost and shrugs it on. He's quick, but Katniss doesn't miss the tattoos covering his back. She's seen the eagle he has surrounding his bicep peeking out from his short-sleeved t-shirts before, but she had no idea his back was nearly covered. It almost looked like a cross, but that really doesn't fit what she knows about him, and he covered himself so quickly she can't help but be curious.

"What are you doing here, Katniss?" he says heavily, hand reaching to rub nervously at the back of his neck. The annoyance she heard when he opened the door is still present and does nothing to settle the bats swooping in her stomach.

"We're worried about you…I'm worried about you." She moves into the room, carefully stepping over everything that is covering his floor. It looks as if he swept everything off the dresser tops and onto the floor, possibly even upended his dresser by the looks of all the clothes everywhere. "You left so suddenly and without saying goodbye last night."

Peeta sighs but doesn't say anything right away, instead he bends over and picks up what looks to be a frame with medals inside and sets in on the armoire in the corner, running his fingers lightly over the broken glass, before answering her.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. Did you sleep?" She moves to him and lays her hand on his back. He moves away from her touch and she can't keep her heart from sinking under the weight of his subtle rejection.

"No," he says, turning to her and looking at her for the first time since she came into the room. "Did you?"

"No," she whispers, looking down at the floor. He hates that he's done this to her, that she has lost sleep because he's too weak to control his own mind, unable to keep himself from hurting her daughter.

"Look, Katniss, this isn't a good idea," he pauses when her eyes snap up to his, questioning his meaning. "You and me…I don't think it's a good idea anymore."

He's hurt her. He can see it in the way her face crumples. It's better this way, he thinks. It's better that they stop this - whatever this is - now, before someone really gets hurt.

"Don't say that. We're fr…"

"We're not just friends and you know it." He stops to run a frustrated hand through his hair, pulling at the ends, and turns to look out the window. He can't look at her. If he does, his resolve will collapse. "It's just too much. I'm not good for you. I don't even know what you're doing here…how you can even look at me after last night."

When she takes a step toward him he stiffens; she lets her arms fall to her sides even though the need to touch him - comfort him - is nearly overwhelming.

"I want to help you, Peeta."

"You can't. I'm beyond help," he says flatly.

"No, you're not. We can…"

So many emotions flood him all at once at her denial of something that seems so clear to him. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Confusion. He doesn't understand why she continues to be so stubborn. He just wants her to let him go. Doesn't she understand what she is risking by being with him? He immediately cuts her off, his tone a pain-filled shout as he turns back to face her.

"I COULD HAVE HURT HOPE!"

Katniss jumps at his abrupt change in demeanor, her heart now racing. It's a struggle to keep her composure.

"But you didn't." Katniss keeps her voice soft even though all she wants to do is shout right back at him and shake him. She has never been one to let someone shout at her without giving just as much.

The need to punch something is crushing. The wall, a door - something. Or throw something - that would be good, but all he finds close by is a crumpled t-shirt hanging over the bar on his weight bench left over from his earlier rampage . He hurls it across the room, but only feels a shade of satisfaction when it sends the one remaining lamp to the floor with a hollow thud.

"Damn it, Katniss, I know I scared her - just like I'm scaring you now," he roars. When she opens her mouth to speak he can see the denial in her eyes. "Don't lie. I know god damned well I scared her. I shouldn't be allowed to be around her. You shouldn't allow me around her!"

The word "lie" makes Katniss' blood boil and has her jaw clenching so tightly her temples throb. As much as she doesn't want to start a shouting match it seems like it's the only way to make him listen - plus, he's insulted her and she just can't contain her temper any more.

"Of course you scared her!" she shouts, advancing on him, her finger jabbing into his chest. "You scared me, too! The whole freaking thing was scary, Peeta! But that doesn't mean you just get to run and hide and trash your father's house, scaring him half to death as well!"

He wishes he didn't find the way she doesn't back down so sexy. It's doing nothing for his resolve.

"And who the hell do think you are, telling me who I can or can't allow to see my daughter? My daughter."

He backs up until the back of his calf hits the weight bench and as her steely grey eyes burn with fury he knows he's powerless against this feeling engulfing him. This is the girl he remembers, so fiery and stubborn. The girl who intrigued him so much he has never been able to forget her. He's glad she's still there underneath all the tempered maturity she shows the world now.

He grabs her wrist as she moves in for another jab and brings her fingers to press them to his mouth. She falters only for a moment before continuing, but her tone is significantly diminished when his lips meet her knuckles, all the fury she felt just seconds before erased by the tender touch of his lips.

"And last night may have been scary, but I am not scared _of_ you. Hope is not scared of you." He sits heavily on the bench, pulling her to him by her hips and rests his head on her stomach. She runs her fingers through the curling hair at his nape, then slides her hands to the sides of his face and tilts his face up to hers, her thumbs stroking the skin beneath his eyes and says softly, "She is not afraid of you, Peeta."

"She should be," he whispers, despondent. Guilt and shame force him to drop her gaze.

She pulls away from him, her hand lingering in his still damp hair, and goes to where her purse lies haphazardly by the door. Peeta quirks an eyebrow when she pulls a fuzzy pink bear that looks like it's seen better days from the bag.

He takes it from her hand when she holds it out to him.

"What's this?"

"Hope wanted me to give it to you. When I was putting her to bed last night she asked why you were crying." Peeta looks away from the bear and up into Katniss' eyes. "I didn't really know how to explain that to her, so I told her you were afraid of thunderstorms."

Peeta drops his head, ashamed, shoulders slumping again and Katniss has to take his face in her hands again to get him to look at her. She needs him to know the truth behind her words.

"And do you know what she did? She picked her favorite bear up from its honored spot on her pillow, kissed him, and gave him to me. She said, 'Sometimes when I get scared I hold Bear. Maybe Peeta will want to hold him so he's not scared anymore.'"

A single tear escapes Peeta's eye. Katniss catches it with her thumb and then kneels on the floor before him.

"She already loves you, Peeta. Don't you get that? Don't take that away from her."

He slumps forward, elbows on his knees, hiding his eyes from Katniss, because he knows if he looks at her he'll start bawling like a baby. Why won't she just let him go? Forget about him?

"She's five, Katniss, just like I was when my mother left. She'll forget about me soon enough." He stands and moves around her to the other side of the room, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's better this way. Just go, Katniss. She won't remember."

He's dismissed her. Given up before they've even started. Katniss slowly stands, the lump in her throat growing so big it threatens to choke her.

"But what about me, Peeta? I won't forget."

He flinches when she lays her hands on his back, eyes falling closed when her arms snake around him, and she presses her forehead to the middle of his back.

"Don't I mean anything?"

"Katniss, you deserve better than this." He sighs, prying her arms from around his middle, and then adds so quietly she barely hears him, "Better than me."

It's anger that has the tears springing to her eyes. Not anger at him, but anger at the war, the government, the military for taking away that sweet boy she used to know and chewing him up and spitting him out. Forgetting about him and everything he sacrificed, like he was just a meaningless, dispensable pawn in their games.

"Peeta, please, look at me." He reluctantly turns, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. "I won't let you do this. I won't let you go through this alone. Don't push me away."

What else is he supposed to do, though? Last night wrecked him in every way possible. He can barely look at her, so lost in this hole he cannot fathom a way out.

"I don't know what to do," he chokes out. Defeated, he sinks down on the bed. He brings the bear to his face and breathes it in. It smells sweet, like baby powder and vanilla, two things he's come to associate with both the girls.

"Did she really give this to you for me?"

"Yes."

"Katniss, I don't trust myself around her. Not after last night." He sighs and turns sad eyes up to her. "I can't control those moments. I don't know when they will hit and I can't remember myself when I'm in them. It's too dangerous."

"OK. So we take it slow with her until you feel more comfortable, but don't just shut her out completely. We'll go back to what we were doing. I won't leave you alone with her. Will that make you feel better?"

He gives a noncommittal shrug. "I guess."

"In the meantime, we'll find someone for you to talk to. Haymitch said he mi…"

"Jesus fucking christ, Katniss, you told Haymitch?!" And just like that they're back to shouting.

"I didn't know what to do, Peeta! And he can help. I know he may act like an asshole sometimes, but he knows people. More than that, he understands!"

"The whole fucking town is going to know," he groans, head falling into his hands.

"Haymitch knows better than that. It will be ok." Peeta looks at Katniss dubiously, but she chooses to ignore the look and lets her voice soften. "We'll do it together. Do you trust me?"

He nods.

He's not strong enough to deny her. He knows she deserves better than what he can give her, but he cannot deny that he wants her. He wants her in a way he has never wanted anything in his entire life.

"Come here," he says and pulls her to him, settling her between his thighs and nuzzling his forehead against her arm. "I just don't know why you want to bother with me. I'm not worth it."

This is why, Peeta, she thinks. He's breaking her heart and no matter how much she tells herself otherwise, he has worked his way into her heart and she couldn't let him go now if she tried.

"Whatever this thing is between, us I know you feel it too." She searches his eyes for confirmation. The way his eyes soften tells her he does. "You have said before that being with me makes things easier. Did you mean that?"

"Yes, I just don't know where to begin or how to make the dreams stop or the flashes. Sometimes it's like I'm really there. Sometimes I can still taste the sand in my mouth - it's that real, and I can't bear the thought of you seeing me like that again, Katniss."

"I would never judge you, Peeta. Would it help to talk about it? Tell me about that day? Help me to understand?"

"No," he says a little more harshly than he intended. He quickly softens his voice. "Sorry. I just can't. I'm sorry."

Katniss is quiet for a moment, thinking. Her fingers unconsciously weave in and out of his now dry hair.

"Will you tell me about the tattoos on your back?" she says softly as she moves her hands slowly from his hair and down to the collar of his unbuttoned flannel, giving him time to tell her no. His head falls, chin to his chest, but he doesn't stop her from slipping her hands beneath the soft fabric, easing it from his shoulders, and letting it pool loosely at his waist. She climbs onto the bed behind him and settles herself on her knees.

The morbid beauty of the artistry covering his back has tears springing to her eyes. From a distance it would appear to be a cross, stretching across his shoulder blades, up to his neck and down to the small of his back. But it's not a cross. At least not your traditional cross. They're knives. Seven knives, with the colorless shading of charcoal, each slicing into his skin.

"I got them done about a month before I came home, while I was still at Walter Reed. They're called Ka-Bar fighting knives," he mumbles, as he feels the delicate touch of her fingertips graze the spot between his shoulder-blades where three of the knives cross over each other, creating the center of the cross. Each blade has USMC written just under the handle and then engraved lengthwise with a date, 7/17/12, and a set of initials. "Each one represents a guy from my squad. Those three were just out of boot camp. Just kids, Katniss - all of them. Dead." His voice cracks, brittle from the weight of his words.

Katniss leans in and presses her lips to the spot where the three intersect, sending shivers coursing through him.

"Private First Class, Jason Winters, 19; Private First Class, Adam Stills, 19; Private First Class, Wesley Waters, 18."

Katniss holds her breath a moment, willing herself not to cry. She lets her fingers wander his skin, studying each, letting the enormity of this moment sink in. Her fingers feather over the horizontal knife on Peeta's right shoulder blade. His breath hitches when she presses her lips against the dark coloring of the knife's hilt.

"Corporal, Thom Harris, our radio guy. He went down first. By the time I got to him…" he chokes on the rest of the sentence, unable to release the words. Katniss snakes her arms around his stomach and hangs onto him tightly as he steels himself against the emotion threatening to swamp him. Once he gathers his control, she moves to his left shoulder blade, letting her left hand feather first over his shoulder to his collar bone, and then back to the blade on his back.

"Corporal, Patrick Cato, our SAW Gunner." To Katniss' surprise, Peeta chuckles briefly. "Cato could be such a dick almost all the time, but he was the best rifleman we had. Excellent marksman….you don't have to kiss that one…"

"I will anyway," she says smiling against his skin, and then moves to a vertical knife on his spine, tracing the lines with her fingertips.

"Lance Corporal, Marvel Smith, shifty bastard…always took my money in poker."

The last one, at the base of his spine, looks like it's buried half-way in his back, the wound bloody and raw.

"Lance Corporal, Thurmond Henderson. We called him Thresh…big guy…a giant really…but he was the kindest guy you'd ever meet." Peeta's muscles twitch all over his back, like he's fighting to push down the sorrow inside him. Katniss places one last kiss to Thresh's knife and then slides the flannel back over him. He's had enough. She doesn't want to push him further than he can go. Wrapping him in a tight embrace, she presses another lingering kiss to his neck, right behind his ear.

"Thank you for sharing them with me," she whispers lightly into his ear.

"I'm just so tired, Katniss," he sighs and turns to face her, eyes bleak and glistening with unshed tears. "It's like I can't get that day to leave me…it's all I think about. It's why I can't sleep. I can't close my eyes without seeing that day. They were my men. Under my command …friends, brothers…and I failed them."

She doesn't know what to say to him so she takes him in her arms and holds him. She'll hold him forever if she has to - anything to make the sadness that never seems to leave his eyes go away.

He eases her back against his pillows, and lays his head on her stomach, sliding his arms around her so he's surrounding her almost completely.

"I just want to sleep," he says thickly against her.

"OK, sweetheart, just close your eyes. I'm here." Katniss threads her fingers through his hair, then lightly caresses his furrowed brow, soothing the tension away.

Something deep inside him lets go when the first dulcet tones of her song leave her lips and weave their way inside him. He lets his eyes fall closed, and for the first time in what seems like ages he feels himself easily drifting off.

_Another day has almost come and gone_  
_Can't imagine what else could go wrong_  
_Sometimes I'd like to hide away somewhere and lock the door_  
_A single battle lost but not the war ('cause)_  
_Tomorrow's another day_  
_And I'm thirsty anyway_  
_So bring on the rain_

It's not long before his breathing evens out and he's snoring softly against her belly, his big body curled tightly around her on the tiny bed.

It's only when she's sure he's asleep that she allows her own tears to come. Tears for the boys he lost. Tears for the burden he carries with him every day. Tears for the battle they've yet to fight.

* * *

_Reviews are appreciated._

_Song: Bring On The Rain ~ Jo Dee Messina (thx Salanderjade)  
_


	8. Chapter 8

Fear, confusion and the relentless pounding of his heart has Peeta's eyes snapping open. He blinks away the confusion, letting the moonlight spilling through the curtains clarify his focus, but it's the soft rise and fall of her chest beneath his ear and her soft breath feathering over his forehead that calms his fear and has his heart sighing.

He tightens his arms around her. Katniss responds by curling herself into him, her eyes fluttering open. A smile has her mouth curling up as she realizes where she is, and Peeta is sure he has never seen anything so beautiful as her sleepy, silver eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Hi," she murmurs thickly, still finding her voice. "Did you sleep ok?"

"Yeah, I actually did," he says, amazed at the truth behind his words. He _had_ slept well. For the first time in months. Hell, maybe years. The dreams had still been there, but they were muted. Rather than feeling like he was back in the war where even the thick, metallic smell of blood permeates the boundaries of his subconscious, everything felt far away - like the memory it actually is.

He stretches to his full length, pushing on the footboard so he can slide to the top and lie somewhat comfortably on the bed without being scrunched up in a ball. Katniss moves with him, her lithe body fitting snuggly against his in a way that has every muscle in his body exhaling. What he wouldn't give to wake up like this every day.

But when he glances at the clock on his nightstand he knows it's probably only going to last a few more minutes.

"It's getting late," he says stroking her long braid, pieces of it having pulled out in her sleep. He wants to choke on the words that are next, but knows he has to say them. "Do you have to go home?"

When she leans over him to look at the clock herself, her breasts push into him and her line of cleavage strains against the thin fabric of her tank top. He has to swallow a groan and actually has to shift his legs slightly to hide the twitching in his pants.

"Hope is already in bed. I'll text my sister to see if everything is ok," she says, rolling over him and off the bed to retrieve her phone from her purse. He wonders if it's bad that he's wishing with everything in him that she means she wants to stay.

Her phone dings in response almost immediately after she finishes her text. The smile that lights her face leaves her eyes sparkling. He lifts an eyebrow at her.

"She said 'STAY' in capital letters. I think she's your biggest fan…well, besides Hope."

"Yeah?" he says, reaching for her when she comes to stand back by the bed. "And what about you? Are you a fan?" He likes the blush that creeps up her neck. Peeta pulls her down onto the bed, and she doesn't hesitate to curl herself into him again, her head resting on the pillow next to his.

"Maybe," she says, eyes dancing. He feigns hurt, placing his hand over his heart. When she lays her hand over his, he knots his fingers through hers. She doesn't say anything for a moment, instead stares at their entwined hands over his heart. There's a sudden seriousness in her eyes when they finally flicker back to his. "Do you want me to stay?"

If she wanted to stay in his bed every day it would be fine by him. More than fine. It would be perfect.

"Only if you want to stay," he says quietly, gently brushing a stray piece of hair from her forehead. He really wants to unravel that braid.

He watches the emotion pass over her face. She's not really all that good at hiding what she's feeling, and he hasn't quite figured out how to decode every expression yet, but he can tell she's nervous. It's obvious in the way she won't hold his gaze and the thrumming of the fingers of her free hand against her thigh. He tilts her chin up so he has her attention. "Do you want to stay, Katniss?"

She swallows and her eyes flicker away. Shy Katniss doesn't show up often. In fact, he has rarely seen her. Usually she hides her shyness under an iron mask of defiance, shoulders stiff and chin held high. But here, where it's just the two of them in his moonlit room, her cheeks flame red and she ducks her chin. He likes that she can be real with him, even if it means she's shying away. It's a vulnerability he's not sure he'll ever get used to in her, but rather one more layer to Katniss Everdeen that he will enjoy peeling away.

He sighs, trying to think of a way to get her to stay without scaring her away. It's not like he hasn't been doing enough of that already. How did he go from trying so desperately to push her away a few hours ago, to needing her to stay in the worst way?

"I would like you to stay," he says with a yawn. "Even though sleeping on this tiny bed with me probably won't be very comfortable for you, I know I slept a whole lot better with you here."

He's relieved when she unlaces their fingers and wraps her arm around him, pulling herself more snugly into him, and settles her head in the crook of his arm.

"OK," she says, her voice muffled slightly from where her mouth rests so close to his chest. "But you're going to have to get a bigger bed if you want me to come back."

He releases the breath he hadn't known he was holding when he feels her cheeks turn up into a smile against him.

"So you want to come back?"

"Maybe," she says, the smile still present in her voice.

"Maybe?" he chuckles. "I'll take a maybe."

He'll definitely take a maybe.

* * *

The change that Peeta feels inside when he watches Katniss walk to her car is almost immediate. And he hates it. It makes him feel needy and dependent - two things he has never been in his life. But he can't deny the simple fact that everything in him gradually tightens and his anxiety levels ratchet up as soon as she leaves.

It doesn't help that he can feel his father's eyes watching him, either. He really needs his own place. With a nice big bed.

Sleep hadn't come as easy as he wanted it to the night before. He had slept off and on all night, waking every few hours, sometimes drenched in sweat, other times gasping for breath. But, while still not a perfect night, it was a hell of a lot better than usual. Katniss would wake with him and hold him tightly, sometimes softly humming, until he drifted off again. He can only hope that maybe with time the dreams will go away, or at least become so muted he can sleep through the night.

There's no harm in hoping.

When he turns, Marcus is no longer standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Peeta finds him whistling in the kitchen as he wipes down the counters preparing to head to the bakery.

"You ready to tell me about the other night, Peet?" Marcus says as he rinses out the cloth and drapes it over the side of the sink.

His first instinct is to snap at Marcus - tell him to mind his own business, and that angers him. And being angry about being angry, angers him even more. But, this is how it is - a huge emotional cycle that he can't break free of. And telling Marcus what happened the night of the thunderstorm is really the last thing Peeta wants to do, but when his father turns to face him, eyes shining with concern, he knows he has to give him something.

"Don't we have to get to the shop?" Peeta says stalling. He can tell by the frown on Marcus' face that he knows Peeta is stalling, too.

"Rye has got it and Leevy is coming in early to open the front. We've got time." Marcus pulls out a chair at the large, round, mahogany table and motions for Peeta to sit as well.

Peeta sighs and folds himself down into the chair across from his father, his hand reaching up to rub at the ache that is blooming in his jaw. He stares down at the table, running his fingers absently over the grains in the wood as he recounts the events of the thunderstorm. Marcus remains silent as he mumbles his way through the embarrassing events of the flashback, and Peeta is thankful for that. He just wants to get it all out as fast as he can so they can get to the bakery and he can try to lose himself in the work. He doesn't want to talk about it. It's humiliating to just remember what happened, but to actually have to admit to his father how thoroughly he lost it is mortifying.

By the time he's finished recounting the story, his leg is bouncing furiously beneath the table and his eyes are darting around the room, never settling on anything too long, least of all his father's concerned face.

"Why didn't you tell me things had gotten so bad?"

"It's embarrassing, Dad!" He shakes his head, trying to shake away his temper. He tells himself he is not angry with his father. Everything is just so frustrating. "I just feel like I'm losing control all the time," Peeta says, finally making eye contact with Marcus for the first time since he sat down. "I don't want you to see me that way."

"You're my son, Peeta. I love you. I want to help you through this."

"I know, Dad."

"Katniss was here, so I am assuming everything is ok with you two, right?" Marcus asks.

"Yeah. Although I still can't figure out why she came back. I was awful, Dad." He turns pained eyes to Marcus.

"Katniss is a strong woman, Peet. I don't think you can scare her away that easily. And, more than that, I'm sure if she felt you were a threat to her or Hope, she wouldn't have come back, much less spent the night here." He lifts his eyebrows at Peeta knowingly. Peeta can't squelch the heat he feels creeping up his neck.

"Nothing happened," he mumbles.

"Not my business, son. You're a grown man." Marcus pauses and fixes his gaze on Peeta, causing him to squirm in his chair. "I like Katniss. I think she's good for you. If anyone can help you through this, she can. But you need to be sure. Keep it simple for now. Take it slow."

"Dad, I don't think you can get any slower than what we've been doing, and I've tried to keep it simple...you know, just friends, but it's not working. She's different. I feel different when I'm with her, and even though I know I should leave her alone, I don't seem to be able to do that."

Peeta chuckles, his eyes softening and his leg slowing down. Now that he's talking and thinking about Katniss, the words just seem to flow out of him. But this is the way it is with anything about her, whether she's there or not, as long as she's on his mind something in him just feels lighter. "It's like she calms me, Dad. Like now. I really didn't want to talk to you this morning...no offense...but admitting all that stuff...yeah, I just didn't want to do it, even though I knew you deserved to know. But her? Dad, it's totally different. It's like I need her, and I'm not completely comfortable with that feeling, but at the same time...I don't know, it just feels right. You know?"

Marcus' mouth slowly turns up into a broad smile. "Sounds pretty serious, Peet."

"Nah, not yet. I just like being with her. Honestly, Dad, I haven't even kissed her."

"What are you waiting for?" Marcus barks out a laugh. "You can't make a beautiful girl like that wait around forever!"

"You just said take it slow!"

"I suppose I did," Marcus says chuckling and scratching at the stubble lining his jaw, his eyes reflecting his son's dancing eyes. "I think you just need to start feeling more comfortable in your own skin so you can move this thing with Katniss forward. Yes?"

"Yeah. I've put it off for too long. It's frustrating, you know? Not being able to control your own mind. I thought I could handle it on my own, but obviously I can't. Not after the other night. I can't put Hope in that kind of situation again. I'd never forgive myself if anything like that ever happened again."

Marcus nods in agreement.

"So, what's the plan. How can I help?"

"Katniss says Haymitch knows someone."

"Haymitch Abernathy?" Marcus says, looking dubiously over the rim of his reading glasses. Peeta shrugs, knowing what his father is thinking. Haymitch has always had a less than stellar reputation in town. In his younger days he was known to be the town drunk. "I suppose he's turned himself around ever since Hope came along."

"Katniss seems to think he can help. Apparently he's been in my position before."

"Mmhhmmm, but look how good that turned out. I know you have your reasons for not wanting to go, but maybe the VA is the better way to go." Marcus walks to the roll-top desk in the family room and pulls out the phone book.

"I guess it's the only option I have. My benefits won't pay for anything else. I have papers in my room with numbers and contacts, Dad. They gave me all that stuff for my PT."

Marcus pauses mid-step and takes his glasses off, hooking the arm in his mouth, leveling him with a serious look.

"Well, go get them. Your appointment isn't going to make itself."

Peeta rolls his eyes at his father, but gets up to retrieve all his information on the VA anyway.

It's time to get better.

* * *

The tension is back. It started the minute he got off the phone with the VA, blooming from the base of his spine and spreading throughout his entire body until he was all but crushing his phone in his hand. Forty-five days. Forty-five fucking days until they can fit him in at the clinic that is almost forty miles away. Peeta had asked if he could see someone else in the meantime. Someone closer to home. Their answer was yes, but the cost wouldn't be covered or would hold a penalty for using a doctor "out of network" - whatever the fuck that meant - and any treatment would have to be pre-approved by the VA.

Forty-five days. What was he supposed to do for that long? He wanted to start now. After he'd finally made the decision, he had actually been looking forward to it. Now he was just back to frustration and the agitation was nearly overwhelming.

Rye kept throwing looks his way as he stomped around the bakery kitchen. There were already two batches of bread dough in the trash because he had kneaded them until they would have yielded a hard, thick brick instead of bread. He had tossed each into the trash bin so hard it had toppled over, crashing loudly to the ground.

"You need to chill out, man," Rye says, picking up the turned over can. "What's up your butt? I thought you worked things out with Katniss."

"This doesn't have anything to do with Katniss. Mind your own business," Peeta mumbles, trying his best to keep his voice level and calm. The tension in his jaw is unbearable, though and it's sending shooting pains up through his skull.

Rye leans back on the counter and crosses his legs at the ankle, arms folding over his chest.

"You know, Peet, I'm not the enemy. You can talk to me."

"I don't have anything to say." He's not sure why he's being such an ass to Rye all the time, but he just seems like a very useful target. They had been fairly close growing up. Closer, certainly, than he'd been to his oldest brother, Marc. Maybe it's just easier knowing Rye won't take his anger personally. He just needs to channel it somewhere, and Rye is here now and perfectly willing to throw it right back at him.

The thought of picking a fight with Rye seems down-right pleasurable, and he's about to start needling him when Marcus pokes his head in.

"Peeta," he says, eyeing the brothers warily. "Haymitch Abernathy is here. Says he'd like to talk to you a minute."

He figured he was going to get a visit from Haymitch, he just didn't think it would be so soon. It's barely noon, but he shrugs and goes to wash his hands in the sink.

Haymitch is silently watching Marcus bag up a few cookies for him. He looks up when Peeta pushes through the swinging doors. He doesn't smile, exactly. More like grimaces. Peeta imagines that's the closest Haymitch gets to a smile without a bottle of whiskey in his belly. Haymitch wordlessly pulls out his wallet, handing Marcus a few crumpled bills.

"Come on, kid. Let's go for a walk," Haymitch says without preamble. He turns and moves toward the door without another word. Peeta looks at his father, turning his hands up in question. Marcus only nods, telling him silently to go. Peeta shakes his head and scratches the back of his head, frowning.

"I gotta get my coat, give me a minute," he says, pushing back through the kitchen door.

"I'll meet you out front," Haymitch grouses, his voice thick and gravelly with age and whiskey. "Good seeing you, Marcus," he says absently over his shoulder as he's halfway out the door.

Peeta rounds the corner of the bakery to find Haymitch standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring at the darkening sky. It's vastly colder today and Peeta has to tug the hood of his sweatshirt up to ward off the cold.

"Gonna start snowing any minute now," Haymitch says, not bothering to look at Peeta. He just starts walking, eyes still on the sky.

Peeta follows quietly, wondering where they are going. He shouldn't be as surprised as he is when Haymitch stops a few blocks down at the VFW. "See, right around the corner. My home away from home. They got good food and my friend Jim Beam is always here. Plus, Gloss is a good cook, second only to Sae. Come on. Let's get some chow. I might even buy."

They enter the building to a few shouts of hello. It's dark, so Peeta can't actually tell who's sitting around the bar just yet, but it's like Haymitch turns into another person as soon as he steps over the threshold. He greets the guys at the bar with outstretched hands and hearty hellos. When he begins to introduce Peeta, briefly glossing over his military career, the men all greet him just as enthusiastically and welcome him home. There are no awkward silences or weird glances at his leg, but rather just a bunch of guys shooting the shit over steak sandwiches and beer.

Haymitch hands Peeta a draft, taking his own whiskey in his hand and heads to a table in the corner. "Kid here thinks he's gonna mess around with my niece," he says to the guys. "We've got some shit to straighten out." The guys around the bar laugh and chortle, making comments about shotguns and nooses.

"They're good guys," Haymitch says, taking a seat across from Peeta. "Sometimes it's nice just to be in the company of people who know where you've been - and we've all been there."

They're silent for a moment as Peeta takes in the bar and Haymitch searches to find the words he needs to say. It looks like every other bar he's ever been in. Bottles line the wall behind the bar. Pictures of sports heroes and military paraphernalia cover the wood paneling of the walls. It's nothing fancy, but he didn't expect it to be. He's been in hundreds of bars just like it all over the world.

Haymitch finally speaks when Gloss brings out their lunches. "You called the VA yet?"

"Yeah. This morning, but I can't get in until April."

"I figured as much, that place is a clusterfuck - underfunded and understaffed," Haymitch says and then takes a giant bite of his cheese steak, little pieces of steak falling to his plate. He chews for a minute, watching Peeta intently. "I have a friend, though. I talked to him this morning. He's a good guy. We were in 'Nam together, but when we got out he decided to actually make something of himself instead of turning himself into the town joke, like I did."

Peeta opens his mouth to object out of courtesy, but the older man holds his hand up for him to stop. "I know who I am, kid. I wasn't always like this. I was a normal teenager once, too, who only wanted to chase girls and get a job in the mills before I was drafted. War has a way of changing you into someone you never thought you'd become. You go in one way and come out another. It's just the way it is. You can't see the things that we've seen - do the things we've done - and not have the core of who you are forever changed."

"Yeah, but I enlisted. I knew what I was getting into when I signed the paper. The war had been going on for 5 years already with no end in sight. I knew what I'd have to do."

"Knowing is different than doing," Haymitch counters, polishing off the last of his whiskey and holding his glass up to the bartender, who's name Peeta has forgotten, for a refill. "This country's been at war for almost the whole of its history. If you're called up, you're going to see action. It's the way this country works."

Haymitch pauses a minute while the bartender sets another beer and whiskey in front of them, but when he speaks again, his voice is lower, more somber.

"Whether it's the jungle or the desert, it's still the same horror."

As Haymitch seems to lose himself in that thought, Peeta has to wonder how true that is. He's heard stories of Vietnam. It always seemed like its own version of hell to him that sent over fifty thousand soldiers home in boxes.

Haymitch shakes himself out of his thought and levels Peeta with a sad look.

"I understand your reluctance to talk to your father or your brothers, or even Katniss. Military life is something that I don't think a civilian can ever grasp. Everything you do is structured in such a way that you're told when to wake, what to eat, where to go and who to kill. Your life is not your own, and then when you get out - for whatever reason," Haymitch pauses, his eyes intentionally moving to where Peeta's prosthetic leg sits beneath the table, "you're thrown back into a life - completely alone, without the presence of anyone who understands - your brothers - that doesn't make sense and with no structure or even a plan or purpose to make the transition easier. It's fucking hard, kid. Believe me, I know. It's why I spend my days down here with the guys and my best friend Jim. I don't want that for you, and I don't want that for Katniss." He pauses again, swishing the amber liquid around his glass. "Do you feel like you belong, like you have a purpose here, now that you're home, kid?"

"I don't know about purpose. I mean, I have work that I enjoy I guess. But Dad and Rye don't actually need me. They've been doing just fine without me for ten years now." Maybe that's why he doesn't really make much of an effort to go to work. He'd never thought of it that way before, and the only place he actually feels like he fits, or belongs, is with Katniss.

"Maybe it's time you found your purpose." Haymitch reaches in his pocket and pulls out a wrinkled business card with the name Jakob A. Aurelius, PhD embossed on the front and hands it to Peeta. "Make the call."

* * *

Awkward.

That's how she feels when she opens the door to find Peeta shuffling on his feet, a Mellark Bakery bag, which she can only assume holds cookies, in his right hand and Hope's bear in the other.

"Haymitch sent me over with cookies," he says almost shyly. Katniss doesn't really understand why he's acting so oddly, until Hope barrels out of her room and attaches herself to his leg and his face clouds over with reluctance.

"Are those for me?" Hope says poking at the bag. Peeta hands the bag to Katniss. "'Aymitch said he'd get me some cookies for being so good yesterday."

"Yep, they're yours, cupcake..."

"But, it's almost dinner time," Katniss interrupts. "Why don't you go wash up, Hope."

Hope eyes Katniss warily. "But I can have a cookie after I eat."

"After you eat your dinner." Hope purses her lips, deciding if she likes this situation. "What are we having?"

"It doesn't matter what we're having, you still have to eat." Katniss rolls her eyes as Hope puffs out a breath and stomps back to the bathroom. "Haymitch and Prim spoil her. She's always a little, um, bratty after spending the night with them," Katniss says with a shrug. "Will you stay for dinner? I have plenty. Sae made brisket tonight and it is mouth-watering."

_Please say you'll stay_, she thinks. She doesn't want to feel this needy and she certainly hopes she's not coming off that way, but ever since she left his house this morning she has done nothing but think of him and wish he'd show up at her door.

"I, um, don't want to intrude...and Hope...," he trails off, his hand absently waving in the air. The fact that he won't meet her eyes tells her he is still reeling from guilt over his episode the other night.

"You never intrude, Peeta." Katniss takes his hand and pulls him into the kitchen. "Stay."

He doesn't put up much more of a fight, and something inside Katniss unwinds. She doesn't want him to feel uncomfortable around Hope, and she knows the only way to avoid that is to have him spend time with them. To remind him that what happened didn't change anything.

They make quick work of setting the table and plating all the food, working in tandem as if they've been doing it for years. She likes how comfortable he is in her kitchen and she lets him have free rein whenever he is there. She's pretty sure he knows where more of her stuff is than she does now. It's nice. Comfortable. And she hopes he feels the same level of comfort as she does.

"So, you mentioned Haymitch?" Katniss asks as she pulls a steaming bowl of broccoli from the microwave, placing it on the table with the rest of the food.

"Yeah, he came by the bakery around noon and took me to lunch at the VFW."

"No kidding?" Katniss says, astonished. It's so unlike Haymitch to initiate something like that, that she is left bewildered. "How'd that go?"

"Not bad, actually," Peeta chuckles, and when he turns sparkling eyes her way something inside her unfurls and she feels herself relax. "He introduced me to his buddies, talked some, and then he gave me the number of his shrink friend. I guess they were in the war together."

Katniss knows she must look ridiculous with her mouth hanging open like she knows it is, but she simply cannot help it.

"Haymitch? My uncle Haymitch? Did all that today?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Because he never does anything like that. Recluse is the word that comes to mind when I think of my uncle. Not exactly the most helpful of people." Katniss shakes her head. "He must really like you."

"No, I think he just really loves you and doesn't want me hurting you. Can't say I blame him." Peeta lays Hope's Monster High plate on the table, casting an odd look at the picture before continuing. "I think he's just looking out for you."

Peeta moves back to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator, pulling the milk out for Hope and then a bottle of Riesling from the door. "Do you want wine with dinner?" he asks.

"Sure," Katniss answers and pulls two wine glasses from the rack under the cabinet. "You should, too. You seem a little tense."

He tenses even more when she first lays her hands on his shoulders, but it doesn't take but a few strokes of her hands before he's leaning into her, his body sighing under her gentle hands.

"I'm glad you came," Katniss says, laying her cheek along the hard planes of his back as her fingers continue to work the tension from his shoulders. "I've been thinking about you all day."

Peeta mumbles something unintelligible, clearly enjoying her hands on him.

"What else did you and my uncle talk about?"

"Not a whole lot. Mostly about transitioning back and how difficult it is...mmmm, that feels good...," he groans when she moves her hands up the back of his neck, kneading the base of his skull. "He had a point about a lot of things. Like I hadn't realized I have no motivation."

"Motivation for what?" she prompts, pulling her hands down and over his arms and then back to the broad muscles of his back. She really likes the way he feels. She doesn't think she's ever felt a man who had a build quite like Peeta's, where you can feel the slight indentations outlining each muscle.

She slides her hands down further and under the hem of his shirt. He squirms when she spreads her hands along his waist, using her thumbs to push deep into the small of his back and he seems to lose his train of thought. "Your fingers tickle when you do that."

"No they don't, I'm not even using them," she chuckles, moving her fingers into his sides, purposefully tickling him. "This is how you tickle."

"Stop," he gasps, trying to stifle a laugh, or Katniss thinks, more like a giggle, and squirms under her light touch, letting the bottle he has in his hand clunk on the counter top. "Seriously, I'm ticklish right there, and when you're touching too lightly right there, it tickles."

"OK, ok, I won't touch you softly then. How's this?" she asks, gripping his sides firmly, letting her thumbs continue to work the tension from his lower back. He sighs again, his hands gripping the edge of the counter and lets his head hang.

"Better...god, your hands are magic." The corner of Katniss' mouth tugs up into a grin as a stream of not-so-pure thoughts flood her brain. She shakes them away, remembering they are standing in her kitchen with her daughter around the corner.

"So, you were talking about motivation?"

"Yeah, when we were talking, it occurred to me that my dad doesn't really need me and maybe that's why I haven't really been motivated to get up and go to work...or do anything really. It's just so easy to wallow and stay in bed. Sometimes it's overwhelming, like my brain is stuck in Vaseline, and I can't seem to move no matter how hard I try. Those are the worst days." He pauses again to rub at the base of his jaw, moving it around as if to render the stiffness from it. "But then there are days when I just stay in bed because I can. Those are the days I wallow in self-pity and I hate it."

The thought of him wasting the day away in his bed caught in the sludge of depression seems so foreign to her. When he's with her, he always seems to have a smile on his face. Is he really that good at hiding what he's feeling?

"But you fill an important role in the bakery. You create art with the cakes and cookies. I hear people all over town talking about them. Everyone loves them. That has to give you a sense of accomplishment."

"I guess, but I don't want to decorate cakes my whole life, and there are just days when I can't find a reason to get out of bed. Haymitch says I need to find some kind of purpose or I'm going to end up like him."

"What kind of purpose?" she asks, moving her hands from his waist to the broad planes of his shoulder blades, her fingers tracing over the ink she knows lies beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Her mind wanders to the night before on his bed, when his muscles had twitched beneath his skin as he fought for control of his emotions. The memory has her leaning into him as she had then, laying her cheek against him.

"I don't know. I don't have one. Something more than myself to care about to get me up and moving forward. A reason not to fall into the same hole he's been digging himself out of for the last forty years, I guess."

"Make us your purpose," she says without thinking. Her mouth is left gaping, all the air having been sucked out of the room. Katniss wishes with everything inside her that she could stuff the words back inside herself. She feels everything in him stiffen. Everything. His muscles are rigid and she doesn't even think he's breathing.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god. Why did I say that? _she chastises herself. It was too much too soon. She closes her eyes and tries to swallow the baseball that has lodged itself in her throat, pulling her hands from where they lay on his back.

"I...um...I didn't...," she stammers, a thousand thoughts flying through her mind that she can't grab hold of. "I'm sorry, I didn't...wow...I just meant..."

Peeta finally turns to face her, and she knows she must be a hundred shades of red. She looks at the ground willing it to open up and swallow her.

"What did you just mean?" he asks, bringing his hands up to cradle her face, forcing her to look at him. She keeps her eyes closed, too embarrassed to meet his. "Katniss, look at me, what did you mean?"

She clenches her jaw to the point of pain, her lips pressing tightly together as she gathers the courage to tell him what has been on her mind since they started spending time together.

"I just want you to want me…not really make me your purpose, I guess, but just want me…and us, by default, because I'm a package deal…" She's rambling, her hands cutting awkwardly through the air, but she can't stop the words from tumbling out. "I guess I just want you to want us enough to get better, so we can, you know…be together…."

She hates that she feels like she's fifteen again, confessing everlasting love to a first boyfriend. And she hates that he's not saying anything. _Say something, damn it. _She blinks open her eyes and she finds him staring down at her, his eyes dark with desire.

"Say something," she pleads. But he doesn't. Instead, he leans down to take her lips with his. A soft sampling that has her sighing into him, arms reaching up to circle his neck. And when her hands plunge into his hair, he deepens the kiss, lips slanting over hers with renewed pressure, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth, begging for entrance.

And she is dizzy with him as he pulls her into a current she's not sure she can escape. Pulling her under until she can feel nothing but him.

This is what she's been waiting for. As much as she's tried to keep it slow and simple, this is what she's been longing for. The feel of his strong hands on her, holding her in place. The heat of his body igniting something in her that has lain dormant for far too long.

Peeta's hands skim a fiery line down her sides to rest on her hips, pulling her flush against him, melding her to him until she feels all of him. Everything blurs and shrinks down into this moment, this feeling that she would happily drown in.

He slows the kiss, pulling her bottom lip between his, nipping once. Twice. But he doesn't release her. He nudges her face to the side, trailing kisses over to her ear, placing one last, lingering kiss to its shell.

"I do want you," he says, smiling against her ear. "I want all of you."

* * *

_AN:_

_Thanks, everyone, for your kind words regarding this fic. It's really quite humbling._

_Hit me up on my tumblr - ofdustandstars. I like hearing from all of you._

_Reviews are appreciated!_


	9. Chapter 9

_AN: Sorry about the wait. (I've been busy and sick.) But this is the half way point! Can you believe it? I can't.  
_

_I've taken some creative liberties with the VA. I've never been there. Bear with me._

_thank you, as always, Katnissinme for your stellar beta work. And also, thank you, Court, for bouncing ideas with me. You're both amazi_ng.

* * *

The waiting room in Dr. Aurelius' office is warm - inviting even. But, it still doesn't calm Peeta's nerves. He pulls his keys from his pocket, needing something to occupy his hands. His legs shake and the keys jingle in his tightly gripped hand. The woman behind the desk clears her throat and looks directly at him.

"Sorry," he mumbles, closing his hand around his keys to stifle the noise. He sinks back onto the overstuffed couch, trying to get comfortable. Maybe if his body is relaxed his mind will relax as well. Wishful thinking. His mind still races, images pinging around his distressed brain.

Maybe he should try to think of good things. His shrink at Walter Reed said to try think about pleasant things when he starts to feel anxious. He's definitely anxious now. At the time that shrink had suggested it, he hadn't had anything positive to think about, but today he has one very positive thing to think about. Katniss.

They'd moved things forward the other night. God, she had felt so good under his hands. The way the worry had clouded her eyes after she told him to make them his purpose had his insides melting. She had actually thought he didn't want them. And not just Katniss, but Hope too. He's pretty sure they're the _only_ thing he wants. Truth be told, he's wanted Katniss since the first moment he saw her twenty years ago. But not like this. Not like the aching, raw need he feels now. She still holds that quiet beauty that's always attracted him to her, but now that he's really gotten to know who she is behind that reserved exterior, he's drawn to her on a deeper level he's never felt with anyone else. She's the reason he's sitting in this waiting room. She's the reason he's willing to talk to a stranger about things he'd rather forget.

He needs to figure this out, though. Because he wants more than just her lips against his. He wants way more than that. He has to figure out a way to stay sane enough to be able to have a normal life with her and Hope.

Hope.

She had giggled and giggled when she came into the kitchen and found them locked in a kiss so deep he'd forgotten where he was. She didn't seem bothered by it in the least. He'd reluctantly released her mother and leaned down and given Hope a kiss of her own on the cheek. He was alright with her as long as Katniss was in the room with them, but once Katniss left the room, his anxiety ratcheted up a few notches until he was left with a sweaty neck and a thundering heartbeat.

He's catapulted out of his reverie when Dr. Aurelius opens the door and walks toward him, pot-belly leading the way, hand extended, a friendly smile stretching his bearded face.

"Dr. Jacob Aurelius," he says, heartily shaking Peeta's hand. "It's good to know you, Mr. Mellark. Please, come in."

Peeta follows the doctor into his office. A lonely floor lamp in the corner, situated by another long, over-stuffed navy blue couch lightes the room. Should he lay on it? That's what you do when you're getting your head shrunk, isn't it? He has no idea. The offices at the VA in Maryland were very cold and sterile - more hospital-like. Even the chairs were stiff and hard. He couldn't have made himself comfortable there if he'd tried.

There is a Golden Retriever curled up by the doctor's long cherry-finished desk. The dog makes no move to get up - only thumping his tail a few times - even though Peeta would like nothing more than to sink his hand into the strawberry-blond fur.

"He's a service dog," the doctor says. Peeta's eyebrows furrow. "I don't really need him that way anymore, but there was a time when his grandfather helped me get through every day."

Peeta sits on the edge of the couch, elbows on knees and cocks his head, urging Dr. Aurelius to continue.

"I had some pretty severe PTSD when I came back from Vietnam, all those years ago. I had a friend who trained dogs for a living, and I would help her out as much as I could back then. She got the idea to train one of the dogs as a sort of service dog for me. She taught my dog, Henry - Rutger's grandfather - to sense my distress and calm me. Genius, really."

Peeta's jaw drops open. "Really? A dog?"

"Sure, worked like a charm. So now, 35 years later, I split my time helping vets like yourself, and anyone else who needs me, and training dogs like Rutger."

"Wow."

"Would you be interested in this sort of thing?"

"Can't really have a dog in a bakery, sir."

"Yes, I can imagine that wouldn't be very sanitary." He pauses, steepling his hands in front of him. "So, Mellark Bakery. I do love your strawberry scones."

"My brother's specialty."

"Do you enjoy working at the bakery? Find it satisfying?"

"Sure. I do the cakes. It's a creative outlet, I suppose," he says, eyeing the doctor, who is idly sitting back in his chair rubbing his enormous belly. "Shouldn't you be writing everything I say down or something?"

"No, do you want me to?" Peeta frowns. "I got it all up here," he continues, pointing a fat finger to his temple. "Plus, I just want to know a little about you, see how you're getting along since you've been home, and then we'll talk about some treatment options for you. Sound good for today?"

Peeta nods. Everything about this visit is so different from any experience he's had with shrinks, although his experience is limited only to Walter Reed. And that was nothing to write home about. Here, he actually feels comfortable, and that's not a bad feeling at all. Maybe this won't be so bad. He's certainly paying out the ass for this, so he might as well get his money's worth.

"Where do you want to start?"

"Why don't we start with your leg."

"What about it?"

"How are you getting along with it? Are you still in PT?"

"It's fine." Peeta shrugs. He actually tries not to think about his leg. Mostly, it's a pain in his ass, but he's getting used to it. "I still find myself slipping or tripping every now and then, but for the most part, it's ok. I'm used to it. I'm done with PT. I just go back as needed now."

Dr. Aurelius nods his head, but doesn't say anything further on the subject. "Are you driving yet?"

"No."

"Why not? Who brought you here?"

"My father brought me here. And I get too nervous when I drive. I get nervous just sitting in a car. I can't imagine actually driving."

"Do you plan on relying on your father for ever?"

"No, of course not," he says. Why would he do that? But if he's honest with himself, he hasn't made any effort what so ever to get behind the wheel. Hasn't really even thought about it. It just seems crazy. "But, it just doesn't seem very safe to get behind the wheel."

"Why not?"

"Because all I do is scan the road for anything out of the ordinary. Even just a kid on the side of the road has my mind racing. It's like I'm hyper-aware of everything going on around me, and sometimes when we finally get to our destination I feel like my heart is going to pound right out of my chest…like I'm having a heart attack."

"Panic attack?" Dr. Aurelius asks. Peeta nods. "Do those happen often?"

"Often enough to make me never want to go out in public again."

"Do you avoid going out often?"

"As much as possible."

"What happens when you go out?" Dr. Aurelius asks. "What kinds of things trigger anxiety and panic attacks."

Shifting restlessly in his seat, Peeta gathers his thoughts by bringing back all the times he's lost it in public, like Hope's Christmas party or startled at stupid things like a bowl falling in the kitchen or that time in the parking lot with Katniss when he was thrust back into the war by the flickering streetlight and the sound of a car backfiring…and then of course the thunderstorm. So many common, every day things that cause him to spiral out of control.

The throbbing in his jaw worsens.

"Loud noises, mostly - which can trigger flashbacks as well. And also crowds. I can't go in public anymore without completely falling apart. Quick movements. I don't like people behind me. Bright lights." His eyes are riveted to the floor like magnets to steel. "Pretty much everything. Makes me feel like I'm losing my mind."

"Have you tried medication?"

"The VA had me on a bunch of meds while I was at the hospital. Everything from sleep medication to anti-psychotics. I don't care for any of them. They either made me feel completely crazy or more depressed." Peeta reaches in his pocket to pull out the list of medications the doctor had asked him to bring when they spoke on the phone, stands and hands it to Dr. Aurelius.

He looks over the list, frowning slightly. "We can work on this. Make some adjustments that the VA will approve, if you want."

"I'd just like to be able to get out of bed everyday. I'd like to sleep at night and actually want to get out of bed and live my life."

"We'll get you there." He sounds so confident, Peeta can't help but believe him. The doctor holds Peeta's eyes for a moment, surveying his face, before continuing. "How much do you sleep now?"

"Hardly any. A couple hours a night, I guess. And when I do actually sleep I have really intense nightmares."

"What are the nightmares about? Are they different every night or the same?"

Peeta has to swallow the lump that suddenly appears in his throat. He drops his head into his hands, his fingers pulling at his hair.

"They're the same every night," he mumbles. "Always of that last day in Afghanistan. The day I lost my leg and everything else."

"Do you find most of your triggers come back to that day?" Peeta nods. He doesn't want to talk about that day. A heavy sigh escapes and his whole body relaxes again when the doctor doesn't press for any more information on that day.

"When's the last good night's sleep you had?"

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. The doctor leans forward in his chair, curiosity piqued at the sudden change in him.

"A couple of nights ago, actually." But that's all he offers. Does he want to let this guy - a virtual stranger - in on a moment that's so deeply personal?

"What was different about that night?"

"My ah...um...," he stutters, trying to find the right word for Katniss. She's his girlfriend, right? Didn't they establish that the other night? Maybe not in so many words, but it's what it felt like to him. "My ah, girlfriend spent the night for the first time."

"Ah. I see. And was this the first time you've been intimate since your injury?"

Peeta's whole body stiffens. His sex life is definitely off limits as far as he's concerned. And what exactly is the doctor implying?

"That's not your business."

"I'm just trying to get an idea of your relationships...particularly where you are in your head about those relationships. I'm trying to ascertain your level of acceptance with the loss of your leg." Dr. Aurelius leans back in his chair, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses and then rests his hands on his bulbous belly. "Was this the first time she's seen you without your leg?"

Annoyance and anger heats Peeta's blood. It's hard to tamp it down, although he knows he should. He counts to ten. And then to twenty. And then again to thirty before he's able to gain control of his temper and swallow his pride enough to answer at least part of the question.

"She has not seen me without my leg yet," he says, the words barely slipping past his thin, tight lips.

"Why not?"

"It hasn't come up." That sounds stupid. He knows it does and he can tell from the look on the doctors face that he knows he is evading the issue. He rubs harshly at the ache in his jaw.

"Ok, we can talk about that next time." He pulls a pen out for the first time and scribbles something on a post-it. "Your anger management skills are commendable, by the way. But, I must say, I'm not here to pry salaciously into your sex-life, Peeta. I just need to get the whole picture. That being said, if you are uncomfortable with my line of questioning at any time, you don't have to answer."

Peeta nods his head, feeling foolish all of a sudden.

"OK. I've got two more areas we need to hit on, and then we'll talk about treatment options. Sound good?"

Peeta nods, although he really wishes this session was over. He glances down at his watch. Twenty more minutes. Surely he can make it twenty more minutes without losing his cool. He slumps back into the couch cushions, letting them envelope him completely. They're oddly comforting. Maybe he'll get a couch like this when he gets his own place. A couch like this is made for napping...if he napped, which he hope he will...eventually.

"So, as I said, you seem to have a handle on your anger. A lot of guys come home with hair-trigger tempers. Before we move on, though, I would like to ask if you have any trouble keeping it under control or if you have anything specific that triggers your anger?"

Peeta shrugs, but his brother's face springs to his mind. "Just my brother...and occasionally my father. But I've always been quick to anger with my brother. He's my brother. It's what we do. I feel bad about my father though. He's only trying to help, and I snap at him way more than I ever should."

"That's understandable. And quite normal. Sometimes the people we feel most comfortable with are the ones who get the brunt of our anger. Siblings, especially, can trigger latent anger very easily. Mostly because they know what buttons to push."

Peeta chuckles under his breath. "He has always known my buttons and has pushed...no, punched them often."

"Yes, I have a brother, too." Dr. Aurelius laughs. "What about your girlfriend? Any anger directed at her?"

"No!" he says a little too loudly. Peeta clears his throat. "Sorry. No. Never. If anything, she has the opposite effect on me."

"How so?"

"She calms me. Sometimes it's like she can just reach inside me and pull out all the bad things roiling around inside me."

"And she helps you sleep."

Peeta nods his head again, his heart softening as Katniss' silver eyes blink back at him in his mind. "Yeah. But that was only one time. I don't even know if I can call her my girlfriend." Peeta pauses, letting the word sit on his tongue for a moment, savoring it. "It's all really new, but I feel the best when I'm with her. It's like I need to be with her. She's the reason I am here doing this. I want to be worthy of her. I want to be my best self when I'm with her."

"You say you need her." Peeta's eyes snap to the doctor's, but he keeps his face as neutral as possible. "And how do you feel about that? Are you comfortable with that level of dependence?"

"I never said I was dependent on her."

"Didn't you?" It seems this doctor knows all Peeta's buttons, too, because his blood is turning molten again. He clenches his jaw so tightly a lightning bolt singes into his temple. He is not dependent on Katniss. That makes him sound like a pussy.

"No, I didn't. I said she makes me feel better. I am just being honest, Dr. Aurelius. The times I feel the best...when I feel the closest to my normal self, is when I am with her. That doesn't mean I'm dependent on her."

Dr. Aurelius nods his head again, tapping his fingers against his belly, as if choosing his next words carefully. He'd better choose wisely because Peeta's blood is already about to burn through his skin.

"Why do you think she has this kind of effect on you?"

Peeta let's out a long, slow breath. "I don't really know. Maybe it's just the way she is. She's very strong-willed and has a lot of courage I've always admired. And she's completely true. There is nothing fake about Katniss. What you see is what you get."

Dr. Aurelius shifts in his chair, stroking his beard for a moment. He looks so contemplative and Peeta can't help but wonder what he's thinking. Is he judging? Does he already think Peeta's crazy? Maybe he's just deciding what he wants for dinner. Who knows?

After a few moments of silence the doctor continues. "You mentioned flashbacks. Are these a regular occurrence?"

"Not really. I've had a few pretty intense ones since I've been back." He sits forward on the couch, hands out in front, elbows on knees. His head hangs low on his shoulders as he stares at the gleaming hardwoods. "I had a pretty severe one when I was alone with Katniss' daughter, Hope, the night of the thunderstorm last week."

"The thunder triggered it." It's more of a statement than a question, and in some odd way, that makes Peeta feel better. He nods, still refusing to look over to the doctor.

"I was there - back in Afghanistan. It was like a waking nightmare. All I could think about was getting her out of that damn firefight."

"Was she hurt?"

"No. Scared."

"What pulled you out of the flashback, or did you have to let it run its course? Were you able to pull yourself out?"

"I haven't been able to pull myself out of one yet. You can do that?" Dr. Aurelius nods, but motions for him to continue answering his question. "It was Katniss, of course. She pulled me out."

The images of that night play again in his mind, pulling him under. This is what happens throughout the day now; the memories are like a plague. Only now it's not memories of the war so much, but memories of that night. Katniss has forgiven him for scaring Hope, but he still hasn't forgiven himself. He doesn't know if he will ever be able to.

"Peeta." The doctor's soft but steady voice pulls at him through the fog of his mind, the dog's wet nose nudging his hand bringing him back to himself. He blinks up at Dr. Aurelius.

"Sorry, just thinking."

"Does that happen often? Getting lost in your thoughts?" Peeta nods, head hanging low, face heating with shame. He'd completely blanked. He looks at the clock. How much time had passed? "Okay, I think we can stop for today," Dr. Aurelius says softly. He scribbles some more on the paper and then stands to hand it to Peeta.

"I think I've got a pretty good starting point. I've written down where I would like to go from here. Just a few ideas. Read them over and we'll go back over them next time." He pauses to walk across the room to a shelf where a row of pamphlets stand. He pulls one and moves back to hand it to Peeta. "This is some information on my dogs. I'd like you to consider it. A dog has a very unique way of grounding you - helping you to remain present. I think you would benefit from one immensely. Talk it over with your father and brother."

Peeta stands to leave, stretching his body to its full length.

"Peeta," Dr. Aurelius begins as Peeta reaches for the door handle. "I think it is wonderful you have such a vast support system. From your father to your girlfriend and even to Haymitch. Get the prescriptions filled. They should help with the anxiety and sleep. We'll track any side effects. Next time we will work on other ways of coping, so you can feel in control under your own strength."

He's blinded when he steps out of the office, the snow awash with the reluctant winter sun. The sun bounces off the blanket of snow that covers just about everything in sight but the roads. The chill in the air has him tugging his jacket closer around him. The swift breeze weaves it's icy fingers through his hair and down to his scalp and he has to dig out his hat from his pocket. He loves winter. Everything about it. He always has. He breathes in deep, letting the fresh, crisp air fill his lungs.

The paper in his hand flutters in the breeze. More drugs. It's probably a necessary evil. If it will get his emotions leveled out, he's willing to try them. At least they're all different from what the VA gave him. No anti-psychotics. He just wants to get off this rollercoaster that his mind seems to be riding. He wants to feel some kind of normalcy again.

"How'd it go?" his dad asks, rather hesitantly, as he slides into the passenger seat of his father's truck.

"Good. He seems like a good guy." Thankful that his father doesn't ask anything further, Peeta settles himself back on the seat and closes his eyes as they make the short trip back into town.

They swing by the pharmacy and then Marcus drops Peeta off at Chapter Twelve. He needs to see Katniss. As much as the doc talked about needing her, he can't help but want to see her. This is the way it's supposed to be in a new relationship, right? The overwhelming need to be in each other's presence. To kiss. To hold. It just seems natural to want those things.

There's a bit of a skip in his step as he swings open the door. A few people are scattered at the tables, but it's still early and fairly quiet. The girl behind the checkout, round with child - Rhonda, Peeta thinks her name is - lifts a hand in greeting, smiling shyly at him, before turning back to a waiting customer. He sees Sae behind the cafe counter taking advantage in the lull in customers to restock condiments and flatware.

"Hello, Sae," Peeta says, ambling over to her, winking cheekily at the older lady. "You're looking lovely as always."

Sae gives him a sideways glance, but he doesn't miss the pink stain that washes over her neck.

"Well, aren't you just the charming one today?" Sae dips her head and peers incredulously over her glasses at him. "Go on with ya now. Your girl is upstairs in her office."

His girl. A grin spreads wide over his face as he turns to head upstairs.

Katniss makes a pretty picture sitting behind her desk with her hair pinned up in an intricate braid, a few stubborn tendrils framing her face, leaving her long, delicate neck exposed. She looks every bit the business professional in a starched lavender oxford shirt, top two buttons open and a thin gold chain disappearing beneath it. Her head is leaning on her hand, brow furrowed, scribbling furiously in a notebook when Peeta steps into her office. She doesn't look up, too absorbed in whatever she's working on.

"Hey," she mumbles absently.

"You almost done?" he asks, coming behind her and placing his hands over her taut shoulders. The stress is flowing off her in waves.

"No. I'm going to be awhile. I'm having some staffing issues. I may need to hire someone. Rhonda's about ready to pop and Jenny is being really flaky. I'm trying to shuffle schedules, but I'm coming up short."

"Can I do anything?" She shakes her head no and leans back into him, her breath catching as his mouth latches on to the sensitive skin below her ear. The shudder that runs through her makes him smile against her neck. "Are you sure about that?"

The sound his mouth elicits from her as he pulls and nips at the soft, silky skin of her throat sends shivers coursing through him. His eyes wander down to the deep v of her button down shirt and he desperately wants to pop a few more buttons open, the gentle swell of her breasts beckoning to him. He lets his mouth wander when she lets her head loll to the side, giving him more access. He brings his hand up to cradle her jaw and turns her face back to him, groaning into her when their lips meet.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," he says, his voice low and throaty. Her hand snakes up into his hair, holding him to her, and she slants her mouth over his again, silencing him.

She feels like heaven. The way her jaw goes slack, breath hitching when he skims his hand across her front and over to her collarbone, letting his fingers dip under her bra-strap and down just enough to feel the gentle swell of her breast beneath his fingertips, has a deep warmth spreading throughout his entire body.

"Please tell me you won't be long," he murmurs, inching the fabric of her shirt open and leaning over her so his lips can replace his fingers. The thrumming of her heart just below his mouth makes him wish he'd locked the door.

Her voice is shallow and breathy when she finally speaks. "I don't know. But I want you to stay. Hope is in her room playing. You could go in there with her until I'm done, that way I know I won't be disturbed and can get through this quicker. Because I really..." she tilts his chin up, away from her chest and gives him a long, sultry kiss. "...really, want to keep doing this tonight." She kisses him again so deeply he can feel the promise on her lips.

She pulls back slowly, her hooded eyes melting his insides, but it doesn't keep the anxiety from creeping up his spine.

"How about I cook dinner?"

Katniss holds his gaze for a moment as if she can tell he's avoiding. Which he is. But he also knows if he wants Katniss he can't avoid Hope. And, really, why would he want to? He adores the girl; she's an angel. It's his own frayed mind that he's afraid of.

"We'll just get something from Sae. Go play with Hope."

"OK," he whispers, stealing another sultry kiss before turning to leave. Katniss' voice rings out as he gets to the door.

"Peeta. It's going to be ok. If you need me, I'm right here."

He nods his head, wishing he didn't need her reassurance and heads to Hope's room.

There's a dim glow lighting the room as the shadows deepen with the setting sun. She's surrounded by dolls, stuffed animals of various types, Legos, and crayons, quietly singing to herself as she paints one doll's face with makeup. He watches her a moment, gathering his courage.

This must be what crazy feels like. His hand absently rubs his jaw, the dull ache returning sometime within the 10 seconds it took him to go from Katniss' office to Hope's room at the back of the apartment. He'd been feeling so good just a minute ago when he was teasing those sexy little sounds from Katniss' mouth. But, now, standing on the threshold of a five-year-olds bedroom door, he's suddenly shaking in his boots. Yep, this is what crazy feels like.

He squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, willing himself not to quietly back away and hide in the living room.

"Hey, cupcake," he says, proud that his voice only shook on the "H".

Hope's eyes sparkle as she squeals his name and races to where he stands by the door. "Will you play with me?" she asks, hands clasped just under her chin, shifting back and forth on her feet. Her eyes are what undo him. How is he supposed to resist those pleading diamond eyes?

"Why don't you get something to play with and we'll go in the living room?" he says as his eyes dart back toward the living room. The closer to Katniss the better. He's such a coward.

"Mommy doesn't like it when I play in there. She says I make too much of a mess. Here is good. Come on." She takes his hand and tugs him into the room. Peeta swallows hard and takes a few hesitant steps into the room, sweat breaking out across the back of his neck almost immediately. "I'm playing beauty shop. You can be my customer."

Hope's tiny hands urge him into a chair by her vanity that he is sure is too dainty to hold his large frame. It creaks under his weight.

At that moment, Peeta is extremely happy Hope is such a chatterbox because his mouth is so dry he's not sure any words would actually make it out - if he could actually formulate any. He's too busy trying to stop the trembling that has started in his hands and tamp down the hum of anxiety that is coursing through his veins. If only the anti-anxiety pill he'd swallowed after he left the pharmacy would kick in.

But the more time that passes without incident, the more he calms. Actually, it's like he forgets to worry. He finds himself concentrating on her stern face - so intent on getting the lipstick she's painting on his mouth just right - or the steadiness of her hand as she colors his nails with polish.

"Mommy doesn't want me to paint her nails. She says she doesn't wear nail polish," Hope says sadly. Peeta smiles. That's one of the things he likes about Katniss. She's probably the least high-maintenance person he knows. "She paints my nails, but says I don't need to wear makeup. It's only for playtime."

"That's because you're too pretty to wear makeup."

"That's what Mommy says," Hope says, her eyes wide, but soft.

"You know, putting on makeup is a lot like painting. Did you know I used to paint a long time ago?" he says as she puts the last swipe of blush to his cheek. He glances in the mirror and has to chuckle. Not much of the makeup is in the correct spot, but it was a valiant effort. He's more of a clown than a drag queen.

"Paint? Like pictures?" she asks, eyes wide.

"Sure. You got any paints?"

Hope rushes to her desk and pulls out a plastic pallet of mess-free watercolors. "This is all I have."

"That's perfect. I love watercolors."

Hope's smile is blinding. They set up papers, a cup of water and brushes on the floor and then each lay on their bellies, brushes in hand. Hope inches her way closer to Peeta so the lengths of their bodies are touching.

He paints her a picture of Rutger, because the dog is still fresh on his mind and because Hope loves dogs almost as much as he does. She ooo's and ahh's with each stroke of his brush, leaning her cheek on his arm. He takes a deep satisfied breath as something inside him lets go. Softens. The hum of anxiety is still present, but it's much more muted than when he stepped into Hope's room.

A rustle at the door has his gaze lifting from the paper to Katniss, who is leaning casually against the doorframe, hand to her mouth, eyes soft and glistening.

She snorts when she takes in his painted face.

Peeta grimaces, but shrugs his shoulders. They'd had fun playing beauty parlor.

"Doesn't Peeta look beautiful?" Hope chimes.

"_So _beautiful," Katniss snickers, but it's the look in her eyes that has Peeta thinking he'd let Hope paint him up every day just to see her look at him that way again.

Yes. He can do this. It may take some work and mental calisthenics, but he will get over this near debilitating anxiety. He has to, because he wants these two girls in his life more than anything.

If his visit with the doctor and an hour with this sweet little girl has proven anything, it's that there is light at the end of the tunnel. He just has to get there.

* * *

_AN: Feedback/reviews are always appreciated._

_Visit me on tumblr - ofdustandstars_


	10. Chapter 10

The change in him has been gradual but significant. Each time she has seen him the light in his eyes has grown dimmer, a physical manifestation of the emotional distance that she perceives is invading their relationship. It has to be the pills she sees him swallow every once and awhile, usually around dinner.

It's been about a month since his first visit to Dr. Aurelius. He had seemed happy that first day. He's usually a little tired after his visits, but happy that he's finally taken that step to wellness. But this isn't wellness. At least not in her opinion it isn't, and she can't help but wonder if she'll ever see the boy she knew growing up again. Everyone changes. She knows that. She doesn't expect him to be the same; she certainly isn't. But she misses that smile that used to light up his face. She can't even remember the last time a smile actually reached his eyes.

It makes her sad.

Peeta's usually bright blue eyes have been so dull since that first visit. His smiles molasses slow. His kisses hollow.

At least there are still kisses. Many, many kisses. And she's thankful for that, hollow or not. He's always able to stir something deep within her by just his presence, but to actually have his lips on hers finally...it's like a wild fire.

"Hey," he says, coming up behind her as she tucks in the pink and white striped sheet on Hope's bed. "Where's Hope?"

"At Amanda's house for the afternoon." Katniss looks at the silver watch circling her arm. "She'll be home in about twenty or thirty minutes."

She turns to him, putting on what she hopes is her sexiest look. His arms come around her immediately when she walks into them, fitting herself to him perfectly, molding the soft curves of her body to the lean lines of his. Without her shoes on her head settles just under his chin. His scent fills her, has her humming to life, that fire inside sparking.

"Mmm, you smell so good," she purrs, nuzzling into the soft, smooth skin under his chin. He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through her.

"I just shaved." He rubs the smooth side of his face on hers. She sighs.

"We've got twenty minutes," she says hopefully, hands climbing up his chest and around his neck. He feels so good. The solid, firm body, contrasting so perfectly with the softness of his face and the gentleness of his hands trailing over her arms and back, has her groaning as he backs her into Hope's bed. They collapse into a heap on the full-size bed, mouths fused together.

"Twenty minutes is not nearly enough time to do what I have planned for you," he growls, releasing her mouth and letting his mouth trail over the long lines of her neck.

This is what always seems to happen when they have a few moments alone together. They are no longer responsible, fully grown adults, but rather two hormonal teenagers who can't keep their hands off each other. Since that first kiss they have gotten carried away in each other so many times. Just last week, Hope had walked in on them in the kitchen. Peeta had Katniss backed into the counter, his hands wandering dangerously close to the underside of her breasts, while Katniss' fingers had dipped beneath the waistband of his jeans. Heavy frustration had filled her so quickly she wanted to weep under its weight. Because damn it, she just wanted to feel him without the barrier of clothing one time - just one time. She feared if she didn't soon, she was going to fly apart at the seams.

Katniss supposes she should be concerned they are in Hope's room, considering the amount of times Hope has walked in on them already, but she loves these moments. The roaming hands, soft sighs and wet lips. If she closes her eyes she can even imagine that the heat she knows is in her eyes is still mirrored in his.

It's not that she thinks he's not into it. She thinks he is. He tells her he is. He acts like he is. She's even felt him hard against her thigh just the other day. But lately his eyes have just lost that luster she has always associated with him. They are just so damn vacant.

But she also can't deny that lately she has felt a distinct shift in him. The desperate, fervent desire she feels inside herself had been just as evident in him. It was evident in his liquid eyes, the depth of his kisses and, of course, the rigid length she so desperately needs. But now, it's as if it's been muted. Like he's trying too hard to feel something that had been so easy and natural, but is now just out of reach.

It's becoming a glaring emotional hole between them.

She knows she shouldn't take it personally. It has to be those pills. Right? But, try as she might, she just can't stop the little voice in her head that keeps telling her maybe he just doesn't want her anymore. Maybe she's not really what he wants. She's not sexy enough. Not attractive enough. Katniss knows what that voice is. Or rather _whose_ voice it is. It's Seneca Crane's voice. She thought she was over that part of her life, but she supposes some things never truly leave. And Seneca never seemed to mind telling her exactly where she lacked when it came to sex, even going so far as to ask if she was a lesbian because she wasn't in the mood one night. Why she put up with him for the six months or so they were together is a mystery to her.

But she can't deny those old insecurities have resurfaced again with the recent change in Peeta. She wants to say something. She's just not sure what. Or how.

What if it's not the pills and it's just her? Maybe Peeta is just getting bored.

And now, the fact that she can't feel that tell-tale hardness has a seed of panic forming in the pit of her stomach. Every self-conscious thought she has ever had comes barreling back to the front of her mind. Every little dig Seneca had ever made about her lack of sexual appeal rings in her ears. Try as she might, she can't quite convince herself that it's just those stupid anti-depressants Peeta has been taking and not her failure as a woman.

Katniss reaches between them to where his hips are hovering just above hers in hopes of coaxing him along. He moves just out of her reach before she can make contact with him. The seedling of panic sprouts.

"I can't do this," Peeta mumbles, rolling off her and back onto the bed, his arm coming up to shield his eyes. There's a faint flush creeping up his neck, whether from displeasure, frustration or embarrassment, she does not know. Katniss begins to roll to her side, but he jolts upright before she can curl herself around him or even just touch him to reassure him it's okay. Scrubbing at his face, his movements sharp and stiff, he stands, only glancing back at her. "I'm sorry…I just…I have to go," he stammers before rushing out the bedroom door.

"Peeta, wait," she calls after him, but is met only with the slamming of her front door. Her stomach plummets.

* * *

He shouldn't have run out like that. He knows it. That was a complete shit thing to do. But he just didn't know what else to do. Everything inside him started to coil until he felt like he was going to spring out of his skin at any minute.

There is nothing worse than being on top of a beautiful woman - a woman that he is pretty much nearly, if not all the way in love with - and your dick is completely dead. Not even a flicker of life to it. He's never been more humiliated in his entire life. Logically, he knows why it happened. But even so, it's still a hard truth to swallow. To say his ego had just taken a major blow is an understatement. That had never happened before. Not once in his life had he not been able to get it up when the moment called for it. And here, when he's got her willing and ready, with time to boot, he colossally fails.

And he panicked. She must think he's a complete and utter ass.

Peeta slumps down on the desolate planter outside Chapter Twelve, gathering his wits. He drops his head into his hands. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. How the hell is he going to face Katniss now? How the hell was he going to fix this?

Frustrated, he pushes himself up and stomps back to the bakery, the dull orange glow of the streetlights reflecting off the metallic sheen of the wet, slushy streets. He can't muster enough emotion to feel anything other than defeat. He should be angry. He _wants_ to be angry, but getting to that emotion is like swimming through honey and he just doesn't have the energy for that right now. God he hates this so fucking much.

The bakery lights in the front are turned off for the night and the closed sign turned, but he can just make out the glow of the kitchen light filtering through the seam under the kitchen door.

"We're closed," Rye calls from the back when the bells jingle as Peeta pushes through the front door..

"It's just me, man," Peeta says, passing him and heading right for the office. He takes his backpack from the hook on the far wall and pulls two little orange plastic pill bottles from it, a sneer involuntarily tugging his lip. Before he can think better of it, he uncaps the bottles and shoves through the bathroom door with his shoulder. He catches sight of himself in the mirror. Even he can see the vacant look in his eyes.

He dumps them. Every one of those damn pills splashes unceremoniously into the toilet bowl. He sighs as something akin to relief fills him.

"Thought you were gonna be at Katniss' tonight?" Rye says, sliding the last of the morning mixes onto the shelves above the prep area when Peeta opens the office door.

"Yeah, well," he shrugs. "Can you give me a lift home?"

Rye turns slowly to face him. There are about a thousand questions in his dark blue eyes.

"You all right, man?"

"Not really." Peeta rubs harshly at the back of his neck. "I think I really fucked up tonight."

There are times when Rye is a complete ass. _Most _times, Rye is a complete ass. The bane of Peeta's existence. More times than not, Rye has taken great joy in making jokes at his little brother's expense, angling for a fight or setting him up to take the fall for something Rye himself had done.

Peeta is thankful that now is not one of those times. And, more than that, it's times like this that make Peeta realize just how much his brother has changed.

When Rye pulls out the stool from under the center work station, Peeta does the same.

"What happened?"

Peeta sighs heavily, his eyes focusing on the marble counter top, fingers lazily tracing the silver swirls running through it. Peeking up at his brother, he gathers his courage, silently wishing it was his father closing up instead of his brother.

"Have you ever...," he trails off. His throat is a desert, the mortification so deep he can't form words. Maybe he should just wait until he's home and can talk to his dad. But Rye's face is passive. No judgment. Peeta steels his resolve and pushes forth. "So, yeah...God...Katniss and I...um, you know...we were, you know...," he stammers. He's not making any sense at all. His words are lost in a tangled web of humiliation and mortification. He gestures down with both his hands to where his traitorous cock lays sleeping in his pants. "...and I couldn't..." He doesn't offer any more. He forces his eyes up.

"Oh..._Oh_," Rye says as understanding floods his face. "What did Katniss say?"

Peeta drops his head onto his folded arms on the table-top. "I didn't give her a chance. I kind of ran out of there like a coward," he says, voice muffled by the marble. He cringes, internally berating himself again.

"That's not good. You need to go back over there and explain or something," Rye says, frowning, arms crossed over his chest.

"I can't do that! What the hell am I supposed to say? Fuck. It was humiliating."

"I bet," Rye says with a soft chuckle. Peeta lifts his head slightly and glares at him from under a curtain of bangs. Rye has the grace to look chagrined. "Well, why'd it happen? Was Hope home or something?"

Peeta takes the empty pill bottles from the pocket of his hoodie and sets them on the table. "I'm done with them. I dumped them just now."

Rye reaches across the table for the bottles and then studies the sticker. After a moment he lifts his eyes to Peeta. "I don't think you're supposed to do that. Aren't there side effects or something when you quit taking these kinds of pills?"

"Too late and really, is there any worse side effect than the one I just had? Seriously, Rye. Is there?"

"I suppose not," Rye mumbles, but his eyes tell Peeta he's not convinced.

"Doctor Aurelius is just going to have to figure something else out, because I am not taking any more fucking pills. I thought I could handle the numbness and the constant emptiness. I figured I could just get through it, you know? It was worth it if it meant I wasn't going to fall apart in public any more or slip into a flashback. But this, Rye," he says, gesturing to his pants again. "This is the last straw." He reaches up to rub at his jaw. "Not only that, but it's Katniss for Christ's sake. I used to get hard just being in the same _room _with her in high school and now, when I've actually got her ready and willing beneath me, god damn it, I can't get it up. I mean, what the fuck, Rye? There is no fucking way I am taking another god damn pill. No way. I don't care what kind of withdrawal symptoms I'm going to have."

"And after, when you're so stressed out from anxiety and panic attacks that you can't be around them, what are you going to do?" It's an honest question, one that he barely gave thought to before he dumped the pills.

Dr. Auerilus' dog pops into Peeta's mind. He hadn't mentioned it to either Rye or his dad yet. He hadn't really seen the point. Dogs and bakeries just don't mix. But he has to admit the idea of a dog such as Rutger is massively appealing. Each visit over the last month Rutger and Peeta had bonded. The doctor had allowed the dog to sit with Peeta during the visits, comforting him as they worked to chip away at his mountain of issues.

Peeta pulls the pamphlet the doctor had given him that first visit from his backpack and hands it to Rye.

"A dog, Peet?" A frown covers Rye's face as he flips through the paper. "We can't manage a dog in here. What's Dad say?"

"I haven't talked to Dad about it. But maybe I wouldn't need a dog here. I don't really have too much anxiety while I'm here, as long as I'm in back and as long as I stay busy I can normally keep from drifting into a flashback."

They are in the middle of laying out the pros and cons of a service dog when the back door swings open and Marcus Mellark lumbers into the kitchen. He pauses when he sees Peeta at the table, eyeing him questioningly before his gaze travels over the pill bottles and pamphlets between the brothers. He lifts an eyebrow.

"What's going on, guys?"

Rye smirks at Peeta and he watches as Rye morphs back into the sixteen year-old torturer he grew up with. "Peet can't get it up, Dad." Peeta groans. Is nothing sacred in this family?

Marcus clears his throat, turns to pull a few drinks from the fridge, claps Peeta on the back and then takes the last seat between his sons, all while heroically keeping a straight face. But Peeta doesn't miss the twitching at the corner of his father's mouth. He doesn't take it personally, though.

"Are those the reason?" he asks, nodding toward the empty bottles, his face completely serious now.

Peeta nods. "I dumped them." Marcus' response is much the same as Rye's, and Peeta begins to question the wisdom of his decision. But, he lays out his reasoning, citing all the side-effects he's been experiencing and then brings up the idea of a service dog.

"A dog?" Marcus asks, pulling his reading glasses from his pocket and fitting them on his face so he can read the pamphlet Peeta slides in front of him. "You think something like this would really help?"

"Yeah, I really do. I didn't really give much consideration to it before, thinking the pills would be easier than trying to have a dog here, but as I was telling Rye, I don't think I would need him here. As long as I keep busy, I can manage the flashes and anxiety. It's when I'm in public or relaxing that I struggle the most."

Marcus nods, pulling his glasses off and sticking one of the arms in his mouth as he always does when he's thinking. "And how much do they cost?"

"They're free to vets. Doctor Aurelius says they are able to donate the dogs because of charitable donations and fund raisers."

"Alright. We'll figure out a way to make it work." He pauses briefly, picking up one of the pill bottles from the table. "I still don't like that you dumped all these pills. I read that you're supposed to taper these off under the direction of your physician. Isn't there a risk of side effects?"

"I wasn't really thinking about that when I dumped them, Dad. I had…_other_…things on my mind."

"Yes, about that, what did Katniss say? "

"That's where he really fucked up," Rye says.

"Shut the fuck up, Rye. I don't know why I even bothered telling you anything."

"Aw, you know I'm only kidding."

"I know," Peeta begins, "and that's why my fist isn't in your face." He turns to his father and frowns. "I kind of walked out without explanation after I couldn't…you know." He can't even say it.

"Peeta," Marcus admonishes, leveling him with a withering stare. "How do you think that poor girl feels? She's probably as humiliated as you are. Did you ever think of that?"

"No." And he hadn't. He'd been too stuck up in his own clouded mind to consider anything else. Now he feels like an even bigger ass. "You don't think she thought it was her fault do you?"

Rye and Marcus both lift their eyebrows at him. _Fuck. _Peeta never considered himself a selfish person. Certainly never in the bedroom, but this…this was selfish. He looks at the clock over the door. He needs to make this right. Tonight.

* * *

After Peeta left Katniss had wandered downstairs. She had watched him through the front window. Watched as he sat heavily on the big planter, slumped with head in hands. Her heart hurt. Really hurt. So many thoughts ran through her head. She had wanted to go to him, help him somehow, but she hadn't been able to make herself take the five steps toward the door.

She was back at the window again a few hours later, staring out at the empty, darkened streets and over to the dark bakery. He must be long gone by now. She can't help but wonder where he went. What he's doing.

Chapter Twelve was emptying out, also. Only a few patrons were milling around, the dinner crowd in the cafe long gone. She just doesn't know what to do with herself. She'd put Hope to bed nearly a half hour ago.

Wandering through the store, she runs her hands along the jars of homemade jams and relishes Sae sells before pulling her phone and a baby monitor from her pockets and taking a seat at the café counter. She had planned to spend the evening with Peeta and now she just feels lost. There are probably a million things she could be doing. She's still having a staffing crisis, after all, and could be making better use of her time by attending to that, but she can't make herself do it. She wants to be with Peeta.

A long, deep sigh escapes her and she can feel a heaviness weighing on her slumped shoulders.

"What you doin' down here, girl?" Sae asks, coming out from the kitchen. She sets a steaming bowl of soup in front of old man Donaldson at the opposite end of the counter before turning her attention to Katniss. "I thought you'd be upstairs with that handsome man of yours."

Katniss doesn't say anything, only sighs again, twisting the watch on her wrist. Sae cocks her head to the side, and turns to pull a bottle of water from the under-counter refrigerator, setting it in front of Katniss.

Katniss twists the cap off, taking a long drink and watches the older woman. Her eyes are sympathetic, as if she knows something disastrous has happened between Peeta and Katniss without Katniss even saying a word. And maybe she can tell. Sae has a way of knowing things. She also has a way of saying just the right thing to make Katniss feel better.

There were times when Sae was Katniss' savior in a way. Nearing sixty-five years old, Sae Walden made an unlikely friend and confidant to Katniss. Sure, Sae had been around forever - they had lived right next door to each other for as long as Katniss could remember, but there were times when Katniss felt closer to Sae than any other person on the planet. Sometimes even her sister. Sae just seemed to understand her in a way no one else had ever been able to. She'd taken Katniss under her wing when Katniss' father died and her mother was too broken to notice that her daughter was heartbroken as well. They'd hatched the plan for the very restaurant they were standing in together while Katniss still grieved her father and was so hugely pregnant, and they had never looked back. She cared for Hope as if she were her granddaughter and Katniss loved her all the more for it.

Sae was a good friend. Always.

"Well, what's going on with ya, girl?" Sae asks again, pushing a loose strand of her soot-black hair back up under the pink bandanna she always has tied around her head.

"I don't know, Sae," Katniss begins, shrugging her shoulders. "I just don't think I'm cut out for this whole relationship thing."

"What are you talking about? That's nonsense," Sae says, amusement twinkling in her eyes as if Katniss had just said the most ridiculous thing. "Are you going to tell me what brought this on or do I have to drag it out of ya? I got a business to run, you know."

Katniss puffs out a solitary breath, the wisps of hair framing her face fluttering, and then begins to replay the incident that played out in Hope's room, leaving out the detail of exactly why Peeta ran out. It must be the color she feels heating her face that clues Sae into what exactly that detail is because Katniss can see the recognition in her eyes. She ducks her eyes.

"Things like that happen, Katniss," Sae says softly, quietly enough so the man at the end can't hear. "They happen more often than you would believe."

"But Sae," Katniss begins, her face turned down in a deep frown, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know I shouldn't take it personally, but I can't help it. It was awful, humiliating even. And he's just been so different lately, and I can't help..." She trails off, not really willing to admit the last little bit, even to Sae.

"Can't help what?" Sae prompts, reaching a gnarled hand to cover Katniss'.

"I can't help but hear Seneca's voice," she says, not meeting Sae's eyes. The grains in the counter-top suddenly become very interesting. "Hear all those little digs in my head he used to say. 'Can you at least try to be sexy' or 'Do you even know what sexy is' - you know, things like that. I mean this is Peeta, Sae. I don't deserve a guy like him. I don't know how to keep a man like him. Maybe it's me and I just can't satisfy him."

"That's the silliest thing I ever heard." Sae's voice doesn't hold any humor at all. It's almost chastising. "The way that boy looks at you - everyone can see it, Katniss. Really. I don't think you have to worry about that." She pats Katniss' hand. "Like I said, these things happen, for a lot of reasons. I'm sure he's got a lot on his mind and I'm sure he feels bad for running out like that and not a little humiliated himself."

"But he doesn't have to feel that way. We could have talked about it."

"Ah, the male ego is a fragile thing, my girl. A very fragile thing." She chuckles, shaking her head. "I'm sure he'll be back with flowers in his hand and an apology on his lips." Sae pauses for a moment. She lifts one bony finger and shakes it at Katniss. "Besides, Katniss, you do a great disservice to a man like Peeta by comparing him to Seneca Crane. You were way too good for the likes of that condescending louse of a man."

A smile tugs at Katniss mouth. Logically, she knows Sae is right. Peeta is a good man. On a normal day, the chemistry between them feels like it's going to burn the house down. It's hardly contained. But still, insecurities like that don't just go away.

What she needs right now is to see him. She looks longingly out the front window toward the bakery.

"Why don't you leave the monitor here and go see if he's over there?" Sae says, motioning to the baby monitor on the counter. "I'll go up if Hope wakes. Don't you worry."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Now, now, girl. It does my heart good to see you interested in a man, especially a man who treats you _and _Hope so well. I've been worried about you always working, never taking anything for yourself. It's about time you took something for yourself, Katniss. A man like that doesn't come around very often and when he does you have to snatch him up and hold on tight. Don't let something this...fixable...stand in your way."

A hearty guffaw leaves Katniss. She pushes away from the counter, the scrape of the stool over the ceramic tile echoing through the nearly empty building, suddenly feeling like she has to do something. At the very least she needs to talk to him. She stands and strains her neck to see in the mirror on the wall behind Sae.

"Do I look ok?" Katniss asks, patting her hair into place.

"Honey, I'm pretty sure you could be on deaths door and that boy would still think you're the most beautiful thing in the world."

Katniss rolls her eyes, but she can't help the little smile that creeps onto her face. Squaring her shoulders, she pockets her phone and heads for the door.

She doesn't have to go far. As soon as she pushes through the glass door, she sees him on the sidewalk coming her way. Breathing in deeply to quell the nerves that have taken hold in her stomach, she walks to him. His limp is a little more pronounced, as it always seems to be after a long day. He doesn't hold any flowers as Sae had said, but the closer he gets the more she can see the apology swimming in the liquid pools of his blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," he begins when he's close enough to touch her, taking the tail of her braid and rubbing it between his fingers. "I shouldn't have left like that."

Katniss doesn't give him any time to say anything more before she slides her arms around his neck and buries her head in his shoulder. The knot of nerves in her stomach releases as relief floods her.

"Don't leave like that again. You have to talk to me, Peeta. Even if I'm the reason you're, um, uncomfortable, you have to talk to me. Okay?"

"It's not you, Katniss. Believe me, it wasn't you," he says, tucking her into his side and moving to the door. "I've been having some issues with the pills the shrink prescribed. I, ah, never had anything quite like that happen before. I promise, though, it's not you. I was just really embarrassed and I wasn't sure how to handle it. I fucked up. I'm sorry."

"Really? You're sure? You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. I just thought maybe, you know…I don't know…," she says, her voice soft, eyes looking down, unable to look at him.

Peeta takes her face between both his hands, rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks and fixes his gaze on her. His eyes soften. "Katniss, I promise you. It was…is…the pills. I've been feeling…off, I guess, and it kept getting worse and worse. What happened earlier was the last straw. I tossed all the pills. I'm not taking them anymore. I can't deal with that." He dips his head to capture her mouth with his. "Not when I've got you."

"Peeta, that doesn't sound like a good idea - just stopping medication like that. Aren't you supposed to taper them or something?"

"Probably, but I don't care, Katniss. I'm done with them." She frowns, not at all convinced tossing them was a good idea.

A frigid breeze sends shivers throughout Katniss, the cold finally seeping through her thin shirt. In her haste she had forgotten to grab her coat. Peeta runs his hands over her arms to try to get some warmth into her. He kisses the side of her head. "Come on, let's go inside, it's freezing out here," he murmurs.

When they get inside, the warmth settles over her like a downy blanket. Katniss unwinds herself from his embrace to get the baby monitor from Sae. The old woman peers around the corner.

"See, I told you not to worry." She winks at Katniss. "You go on upstairs and take care of that handsome young man, now, ya hear?"

The heat rises in Katniss' cheeks. She would like nothing more than to take care of Peeta, but she really doesn't think that's going to be an option tonight. A few hours probably isn't going to make that much of a difference. But, she is going to make sure he knows she doesn't care it happened. That it doesn't change her feelings for him.

She takes him by the hand and leads him up the stairs. They are barely through the door before he has her backed up against the wall, hand slipping into her hair, peppering her with slow, soft kisses to her cheeks, eyelids and forehead.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry," he says between kisses. "I never meant to make you feel bad. I just wasn't thinking straight and I was impossibly embarrassed and I acted like a child. I'm sorry."

She smiles up at him. "Okay, it's fine, Peeta. Really," she says, locking her lips to his. Her kiss is long and languid. Now that she knows it wasn't her fault she feels a thousand times more confident. She'd always been a little awkward in this part of their relationship whether or not Seneca's voice was poisoning her mind. It's just who she is. But to see him this way melts that hesitation away. He does want her and that makes her feel powerful.

He breaks away from her mouth, resting his forehead against hers, their soft pants mingling between them. "You know," he breathes, "just because I'm having, um, problems right now, doesn't mean that I can't take care of you." He pauses, pulling back to study her face. "That is, if you want me to stay."

Oh, God, how she wants him to stay. Just the thought has a fire blazing through her and straight to her core. She stretches up on the tips of her toes to capture his mouth again, sliding her tongue into his mouth, tasting him. A deep groan rumbles through him.

"Please tell me that's a yes," he moans into her, inching his hands up and under the fabric of her shirt. She shivers under his touch, a soft sigh escaping her when he releases the clasp of her bra, and inches the lacy fabric up, palming her breast in his hand. But it's when he ducks his head down to her, taking the rosy bud of her nipple into his mouth, that she arches into him, head falling back, a strangled gasp falling from her lips, the baby monitor slipping from her grasp.

They jump apart as it crashes to the floor, the battery spilling out from its compartment. Katniss brings a finger to her lips when Peeta opens his mouth to say something. They listen for movement coming from Hope's bedroom in the back. Silence.

Katniss takes Peeta's hand in hers, pulling him behind her, a finger pressed to her lips. "Bedroom," is all she says.

His sweatshirt and t-shirt are over his head and on the floor before Katniss even has the door to her bedroom clicked into place. It's hard to keep from staring. Hard to keep her mouth from watering.

He makes swift work of her shirt as well, tossing it over his shoulder and she barely has time to think before he's hovering over her on her bed. But when he takes her mouth with his, it's slow and deep, his tongue caressing hers as his fingers flutter over her bare torso.

He wants to savor the moment. Draw the pleasure from her. It's the very least he can do. If there was ever a positive side to having a limp dick, it was that he could take his time with her, show her exactly what she means to him. And he plans to do exactly that. But first, he needs to get her completely naked.

He releases her mouth slowly, letting the kiss linger between them, then trails soft, succulent kisses over the smooth, tanned flesh at the base of her long, lovely neck, pausing to feel the thunder of her heartbeat beneath his mouth. He laces his hand through one of hers, and raises their clasped hands above her head, her breast lifting up as if presenting itself to him. He doesn't hesitate to latch onto it, swirling his tongue around the taut peek. He could spend an hour right here listening to the soft sighs and moans he's pulling from her, but it's the heat he feels pressing against his thigh that has his free hand snaking down and slipping beneath the top of her pants and nudging under the thin fabric of her panties.

If she feels hesitant at all, she doesn't show it. It's the first time they've gotten this far; they've always been interrupted in all their previous attempts. The sexy little grin she wears and her hooded lids tell him she wants this just as much as he does.

A deep rumbling growl emanates from him as his fingers slip easily through her folds, slick with her arousal. "Fuck, Katniss, you feel so good."

He pulls his hand from her heat and fumbles with the button of her pants, tugging them and her panties down in one swift motion. He kneels between her legs, the soft horizons of her curves lay bare before him for the first time, calling for his touch. He smoothes his hands over her thighs, his thumbs grazing her wetness before traveling up her hips, to the valley of her waist and, finally, to the soft rise of her breasts. He licks his lips. He's never been so hungry in his life.

A soft pink tinge colors her face as he takes all of her in. It's the first hint of embarrassment she's shown him. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her, his tongue tangling with hers. The feel of her hands splayed across his back, holding them together, skin against skin, has him sinking into her, shuddering.

"I need to taste you, Katniss," he murmurs into her. She releases her hold on him so he can move back down between her legs. Lifting his eyes to meet hers, he hovers just over her, that uniquely sweet scent filling him. He breathes deeply, and releases it over her and watches as her eyes flutter shut, sighing in anticipation. Reaching up, he knots their hands together again, then lowers his mouth to her, tongue dipping between her folds, the tangy sweetness exploding over his tongue. He can't keep the deep moan inside when she shudders around him, her free hand weaving into his hair, holding him in place. But she really doesn't have to worry, he's not leaving this spot for a very long time. He wants her boneless and sated before he will even think of moving.

He swirls his tongue over her little bundle of nerves, making her cry out. He smiles against her before sucking it into his mouth, lavishing it with attention. Her thighs quiver and shake and then tighten around him so much that he has to unravel their hands to hold her legs down. She's getting close. He slows his movements and peers up at her. God, she has to be the sexiest thing he's ever seen. He feels his cock twitch. Evidently there is some life to it after all. Not enough to push into her, like he so desperately wants, but at least it's reacting a little.

He sinks a finger easily into her, curling it up and watches as she arches into him, a sharp oath leaving her lips. All he can think is how beautiful she is, so completely at his mercy. So completely his in this moment. He sinks another finger in, then another, pumping into her as his thumb presses and circles her swollen nub. She rocks with him, her hands fisting in the fabric of the comforter, body glistening as she climbs to the precipice, the soft mewls and whimpers like a vice on his heart. And then she shatters with the ferocious rush of her orgasm, her walls pulsing and contracting around his fingers. He fits his mouth back on her and rides out her orgasm with her.

Her legs fall open and he slowly pulls his fingers from her, sucking the remnants of her arousal from his fingers. He kisses the insides of her thighs, unable to keep the wicked grin from playing across his mouth before slowly working his way back to her face, nuzzling her neck while she still gasps for breath, her gaze distant and unfocused.

"Don't ever think it's you, Katniss. Never you," he murmurs against her ear. "Never you."

She turns into him then and slips her top leg between his, resting her hand over his heart. He slides his fingers through hers and brings her hand to his mouth. Her eyes are liquid, like mercury, when she peers at him behind heavy lids. He sees something in those liquid depths that makes his heart stutter.

"Stay with me tonight?" she asks, sleepily.

"What about Hope?" he says, running a lazy finger over the contours of her face.

"I'll figure something out to tell her. Stay with me?"

He pulls her tighter. He's pretty sure he never wants to leave.

"Always."

* * *

_AN:_

_Thanks for all the follows and nice messages. Check out my tumblr - ofdustandstars. And, if you haven't done so, check out my little one-shot **The Deepest Secret Nobody Knows,** that I did for the Spring Fling.  
_

_Reviews are appreciated._


	11. Chapter 11

He wakes gradually. Besides the awful taste in his mouth, the sleeping pills Dr. Aurelius prescribed seem to do the trick. But the taste. It's so horrible. He smacks his lips, trying to rid himself of that awful taste, but it's no use. After almost a month it never truly goes away, but the mornings are the worst.

Peeta had debated taking the pills before he and Katniss finally settled down to sleep last night, but ended up swallowing the little blue pill anyway. He had not wanted to disturb her sleep as he had the last time they spent the night together.

She's curled around him, still completely naked. The weak morning sunlight filters through the sheer curtains casting a faint glow to her olive skin. He inches the sheet down slightly so he can take more of her in, running the flat of his hand over her shoulder and down to the valley of her hips. She sighs, snuggling herself deeper into his side.

He had worn her out. Truth be told he couldn't get enough of her last night. He just couldn't help himself. He liked watching her come. He liked watching her normally so serious face go slack, mouth dropping open, eyes molten as she shuddered and shook around him. And she responded to him so easily. To the point that she seemed almost embarrassed about it. But he had assured her that the way she came alive under his touch was perfect.

She stretches as she wakes, legs straightening down, arms up, eyes still squeezed shut, breasts brushing against his side. His cock twitches. It better come to life soon. He doesn't want to wait forever for that shit to leave his system. He'll have to remember to ask Dr. Aurelius how long before it's gone.

Peeta eases Katniss onto her back, hand roaming over her chest, kneading at her breasts. Her eyes slowly come open, pinning him with those beautiful silver irises. She threads her fingers through his hair as his mouth latches onto one breast, and his hand snakes down between her thighs.

"You're insatiable," she purrs, arching into his touch.

"You have no idea, Katniss." It's not long before the soft little mewls he loves so much are leaving her and his head is between her legs, eyes trained on her face watching another long orgasm overtake her. He would give anything - _anything_ - to bury himself in her right now. Another couple of days. Surely, that's all it will take. He vows right then to drink forty glasses of water today to push the process along.

A swift knock at the bedroom door has Katniss sitting straight up. "Mommy! Why is the door locked? I need you!"

Hope.

He had actually forgotten she was in the apartment. Peeta wipes at his mouth and jumps off the bed, getting momentarily tangled in the sheets and stumbling slightly when he lands on his prosthetic. He's not used to sleeping with it and it aches after being attached for so long. He rubs harshly at the spot.

Katniss eyes are wide. "I'll be, um, out in a minute, baby," she says, her voice shaking. There is a smile on her face, though. A smile he's thankful to see. A part of him was truly worried she would come to her senses and kick him out, never allowing him in her bed again. But, she saunters over to him, slipping his discarded t-shirt over her head and wraps her arms around his neck. His hands land on the swell of her hips, pulling her flush against him.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up," she says, nodding to the bathroom behind him before kissing him solidly on the mouth. "I'll go take care of Hope, ease her into the idea of you being here so early, and then I'll shower when you're done."

"Ok, I'll make some breakfast while you shower. What are you going to tell her?"

Katniss shrugs, her face turning down into a frown. "I haven't gotten that far yet. I've had other things on my mind, which you made very fuzzy this morning."

"Oh, yeah? I can keep doing that for the rest of the day, if you want," he teases, nipping at her chin. The heat that moves into her face draws a grin from him. God, he loves that. How she can be so sweet and so sexy at the same time drives him crazy with need.

"I wish we could. But, you have places to be today. You need to talk to Dr. Aurelius about tossing those pills and I have a staffing issue I still need to deal with so I don't have to work crazy hours and we..." she pauses to plant a very long and wet kiss on his mouth. "...and we can spend more nights like last night together."

Peeta begins to say something more, but Hope's voice, shrill from being made to wait, rings out from the other side of the door. "Mommy! Why is the door locked? I need to take a bath."

"Wait, one more," Peeta says, pulling her to him for another kiss, letting his hands roam one last time under her shirt and over the curves of her bottom, groaning when she pulls away and pushes him to the bathroom. He watches intently, seemingly unable to tear his eyes from her as she turns and rifles through the top drawer of her dresser for some panties, stumbling as she steps awkwardly into them and then hurries out the door to Hope.

Later, in the kitchen Peeta pushes a puddle of eggs around the pan on the stove waiting for them to scramble. On the griddle next to him slices of bacon sizzle and pop, and the smell of French toast warms the air. He's lost in thoughts of Katniss and startles slightly when Hope pulls a stool out at the island.

He glances over his shoulder. "Hey cupcake, want some juice?" He runs the spatula through the eggs one last time, satisfied with their consistency, and dumps them into a big bowl. Pulling the apple juice from the refrigerator, he glances back at Hope again, unsure of why she's being so quiet this morning. She is never quiet. "What's going on, cupcake?" he asks as he sets the cup he just poured in front of her, trying to keep his voice light and airy as if his being there at seven am is the most normal thing in the world.

It's obvious by the look on Hope's face that she's not buying it though. The deep scowl and pursed lips are so like her mother that Peeta can't help the smile that creeps onto his face as he is transported twenty years into the past. She is the spitting-image of Katniss at that age. He can see her perfectly as they sat in kindergarten all those years ago, singing songs and learning their letters.

Peeta leans an elbow on the counter, cocking his head at Hope. She takes a slow sip of the apple juice, staring at him over the rim of the cup. When she sets it down, it sloshes over the rim, her silver eyes glaring up at him. His stomach drops.

"Did you and my mommy have a sleep-over last night?" There is a sharp edge to her little voice and Peeta suddenly has the distinct feeling he's in trouble. He swallows hard.

"Um, well, yeah, I guess we did," he stammers. Hope's face falls and Peeta wants to crawl under a rock. He turns back to the griddle and plates all the French toast, grimacing and silently cursing Katniss for leaving him alone to navigate these treacherous waters with a petulant five-year-old. When he turns back around and slides a plate of eggs and toast in front of her, her face is still pinched and tight. She huffs out a breath, little errant curls blowing all around her face.

"That's not fair," she pouts. "I want to have a sleep-over but mommy never lets me. How come she gets to have one and not me?"

Peeta's mouth drops open but no words fall out. This whole kid thing is harder than he thought. If his brain was working half-way right he might be able to come up with something passable, but at this very moment he's drawing a blank and a thick ache is starting to form at the base of his skull. Luckily, Katniss comes into the kitchen.

"Because you're still so little," she tells Hope, planting a noisy kiss on her cheek and tickling her sides. Hope dissolves into giggles. "But we might be able to discuss that a little, maybe relax those rules a bit."

"Really?" Hope asks, turning her beaming little cherubic face up to Katniss. She nods and kisses Hope's forehead. "Oh! I can't wait to tell Amanda. She's going to be so excited, Mommy. Thank you!"

And just like that the tension in the air dissolves like it was never there to begin with. Hope turns back to her food chattering on and on about Monster High and someone named Draculara and Frankie-something while Katniss pulls Hope's hair back from her face and begins to plait it into a thick braid down her back.

Peeta watches the whole interaction with more than a little awe. She makes it look so easy. He plates some French toast, eggs and bacon for Katniss when she puts the finishing touches on Hope's braid. She takes it from him, groaning her appreciation when he holds a forkful up for her.

He finds himself almost hypnotized by them. Everything about them is so in sync, so fluid. It's obvious they have their routine down pat. A routine they have seamlessly fit him into, talking and giggling with him like he's a part of this little family. And when he notices Katniss absentmindedly stroking the back of his hand with hers, he wants nothing more than to freeze this moment in time, bask in it forever. Because this is what he's always wanted. A simple and easy life. Nothing in the Mellark household was ever this easy and fluid. Chaos would be the word he would use for school mornings with his brothers and father. There was always a lot of cursing and pushing amidst plenty of shouting - the complete antithesis of what he sees before him now. In fact, they make it through breakfast and out the door on time and without incident. Amazing.

At the car, Peeta rights himself after setting Hope down, holding onto the car as a wave of dizziness hits him like a tidal wave. Hope climbs into her car seat and slips her arms through the belt straps, getting comfortable so Peeta can secure, what in his mind is no less than a torture device, around Hope's small body. He fits the puzzle pieces of the buckle together, only biting back a few choice words a couple of times. Why do these contraptions have to be so complicated? He jiggles the seat a few times, causing Hope to giggle, but the kid is secure, that's for sure. She isn't going anywhere.

He taps his finger against the tip of her nose. "Have a good day at school, cupcake," he says before backing out of the SUV.

"Wait!" she yells before he can fully straighten, holding out her arms to him. "Kiss!"

He can feel the smile stretch his face. God, the kid is so damn cute. He leans back into the car and kisses her on the cheek, tugging on her long braid before turning to face Katniss, who is leaning on the side of the car watching the whole scene. His cheeks flush.

"Seems I can't resist either Everdeen girl," he says shrugging. Katniss eases into his arms, fitting herself snuggly against his chest and lifts her face to his. The smile on her face is a little shy and her eyes are soft, holding something he's not ready to read quite yet. He slips an arm around her waist and fastens his mouth to hers for a quick, but no less succulent kiss, groaning a little when her hand slips up into his hair. "I'll see you tonight," he says as she slides into the driver's seat and starts the car.

He waves to Hope when Katniss pulls away from the curb and drives down the street.

Turning to head down to the bakery, Peeta sees Marcus leaning against the front of the building, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk firmly planted on his face.

"That was some scene," he says when Peeta gets close enough to hear. "I take it you two worked everything out?"

"Yeah," Peeta says quietly, still trying to wrap his head around all the feelings that are assaulting him. His father was right. It was something. The entire morning was something. Something a whole lot more than just two friends moving their relationship forward. But how much more is it? He's not sure if he doesn't know or if he's simply unwilling to admit just how deep he is.

Probably the latter, but right now he has to focus on his upcoming visit with Dr. Aurellius and the pounding headache that is taking hold right under the base of his skull.

* * *

Dr. Aurelius is not pleased. At all. He shifts in his seat several times before settling his elbows on his knees with one hand rubbing roughly at his beard after Peeta runs through the events of the previous night. He motions for Rutger to sit with Peeta on the couch.

"Peeta, Klonopin can have some serious side effects if stopped so abruptly. You should have called me before acting so hastily." The doctor takes his glasses off his face, rubbing them furiously on his shirt to clean them. Peeta is sure they are the cleanest glasses in the nation since he's repeated the action about five times in the last ten minutes.

"It was impulsive, I know, but I feel okay," Peeta reassures the doctor again, shrugging and not really understanding why the doctor is so worried.

"Well, Peeta, it hasn't been that long. How many doses have you missed?"

"I would have just taken my second one about an hour ago."

The doctor scratches at his sideburns. "And you don't feel any different?"

"Just a headache...and I got a little dizzy when I set Hope down this morning."

"The dizziness is most likely from the Effexor." Doctor Aurelius sighs heavily before turning worried green eyes on Peeta. "I want you to take Rutger home with you today. You two have bonded enough here, and he knows his job well enough that I feel confident in his ability to sense anything amiss with you." He pulls his prescription pad from his desk and begins scribbling on it. "And here is a script for Wellbutrin and Xanax. The Xanax will help with the Klonopin withdrawal."

"I'm not taking any more drugs, doc. I'm just not going to do it. I don't care about the withdrawal. I can handle it. And I can't take your dog."

"It's what he's trained for, Peeta. It's fine. Enjoy your time with him until we can get you your own dog. As for your medications, the Wellbutrin has no sexual side effects, Peeta, and you must understand the seriousness of the Klonopin withdrawal. There is a significant chance for seizures. I realize it's only been a month, but it's always a possibility. The Xanax will diminish those chances."

"No. I'll be fine." The finality in his voice has Dr. Aurelius sighing and wiping at his glasses again.

"Can you come back tomorrow? We'll take a ride out to Portia's and match you with one of her dogs."

Peeta nods enthusiastically while Dr. Aurelius retrieves Rutger's leash and harness.

"As long as he's wearing this harness, he can go anywhere with you. Inside the pocket, here," he says pulling a plastic bag containing papers in it, showing them to Peeta, "are his papers if anyone gives you any trouble, but for the most part people will leave you alone. He's trained to keep people at a distance, as well, so you'll feel more comfortable in public." He pauses, leveling Peeta with a serious stare. "Plus, he can alert someone if something happens to you. I don't want to be alarmist, Peeta, chances are nothing severe will happen, but I just want you aware and prepared should something happen. I can't say I agree with your decision, but I do understand it. Call me should anything happen. Please." He holds his hand out to shake.

"I understand, thanks, Doc," Peeta, says grasping his hand. "We'll see you tomorrow."

Peeta settles Rutger into the seat of his father's truck while Marcus says hello to Dr. Aurelius and, most likely, get's the low-down on what withdrawal symptoms to expect. From the look on his father's face Peeta suspects Dr. Aurelius just told him about the chance of seizures. He's not happy either. They'll both have to just get over it. He can make it the next few days until it's out of his system.

"You'll help me out, right boy?" Peeta coos to Rutger, who automatically holds his paw up for Peeta. But before he can take the paw, what feels like a bolt of lightning slices through his skull. It's unexpected and it takes his breath away. Rutger stands at attention, a slight whimper leaving him. Peeta leans into Rutger, wrapping an arm around his silky soft body and pushes his forehead into the dog's neck. "What the fuck was that?" he murmurs. He takes a deep breath and rights himself so he can slide into the seat beside Rutger, shaking his head, trying to lose the fog that has seeped in.

"Seizures, Peet?" is all his dad says when he slides behind the wheel. He pats Rutger's head, but the dog doesn't acknowledge him, his focus still intently planted on Peeta.

"I'll be fine, Dad," he manages to get out. His brain feels muddled, his skin too tight. He rubs at his temple, but doesn't say anything to his dad bout what he just experienced.

The next one doesn't happen until they are nearly to the bakery. He winces at the shock of it and again, Rutger alerts.

"You okay, son," Marcus asks, glancing over to him.

"Yeah, Dad, I just feel a little dizzy. I probably just need some food or something." He hates not telling the entire truth, but he really doesn't want his dad to worry. This will pass.

Marcus looks sideways at Peeta, a deep frown etched onto his face. They pull into the spot behind the bakery and get out. Peeta stumbles a little, but rights himself before his father notices. Okay, this is going to be a little more difficult than he thought.

When they enter the bakery it is utter chaos. Peeta turns to head straight for the office, not wanting to have anything to do with crowds, especially with the pounding in his head and the slicing pain that seems to be coming in quicker intervals the more the day progresses. But, he doesn't get far before a booming voice bellows through the bakery.

"Peeta Mellark, as I live and breathe!" The deep, lazy tone that holds a slight southern drawl and a pound of sarcasm is a voice Peeta is happy to hear, and he can't stop the smile that spreads over his face.

"Finnick Odair, what the hell are you doing up here in God's country?" Peeta says as Finnick envelopes him in a bear hug, slapping him on the back several times.

"Just got out. My twenty is finally over. Annie and I have been doing a little traveling and we wanted to come up here to see you for awhile, hope that's okay?" At the sound of her name, Finnick's wife appears at his side, an easy smile lighting her emerald eyes. Peeta had always thought her a sea nymph with her long, auburn waves falling loosely down her rail-thin back, her beauty seemingly muted against Finnick's in-your-face good looks, but she is beautiful none-the-less. Peeta pulls her into a tight embrace.

"It's more than okay. I'm glad you're here," Peeta says sincerely. He is glad. If there was one thing he truly missed about Afghanistan it was this man standing before him, in all his affable charm and wit. He's missed his best friend. Just knowing Finn is standing in front of him safe and sound causes something inside him to relax.

Peeta tries hard to push the fog from his head. Of course Finnick would have to appear when he's going through withdrawal. At least the bolts of electricity have paused for the time being. But, he supposes if anyone should be with him if he has a seizure it's a paramedic...a paramedic who has already saved his life once before.

Thoughts of that final day come barreling back into Peeta's head - the searing pain from the shrapnel slicing through his leg, the smoke and sand filling his lungs, the hollow, muffled sound of screams and cries after the IED explosion took some of his hearing, the aroma of burning flesh and the acrid smell of gun powder in the air assault him so hard he has to grab the counter, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turn snow white. Rutger nudges Peeta's leg. When he doesn't respond right away, still trapped by the flashback, Rutger lifts up and settles his front paws on Peeta's arm, effectively pulling him from the scene playing out in his mind.

"You all right, man?" Finn asks, laying a hand on Peeta's shoulder. He only nods and bends down to Rutger, patting and rubbing him, amazed at how quickly the dog had responded.

"Good boy, Rut. Such a good boy."

When Peeta straightens back up to his full height, Finnick is looking at him oddly, his face scrunched down into a frown, auburn eyebrows melded together like he's trying to decide what question to ask first. Peeta will be glad when this is over and people will stop looking at him this way. It's getting fucking annoying. He doesn't want to explain to any more people why his head is so fucked up, but he supposes if anyone would understand it would be Finnick. He was there. He's the one who tied his leg off so he wouldn't bleed out and got him the hell out of...hell.

"I'm still working out some of the after effects of the war, Odair. It's nothing. It's why I have Rutger," he offers as nonchalantly as possible. Finnick opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a loud squeal that brings a smile to Peeta's face - as much for the distraction as for the owner of said squeal.

"Sorry, sorry," Katniss says as she hurries into the bakery hot on Hope's heals. "I couldn't contain her once she saw the dog." She pauses, leaning up to kiss Peeta hello before continuing. "You have a dog?"

Peeta leans down so he can introduce Katniss and Hope to Rutger - who shows off by offering a paw to them both. Hope squeals in delight again. "When did you get a puppy, Peeta?" Hope asks, moving closer to him, but still able to snuggle her face in Rutger's soft, golden fur.

"I got him today, cupcake, but he's not mine to keep...I'm kind of borrowing him for a few days until I pick out one that I can keep."

"Ooooo, can I help you pick one out? Please, Please?"

"I think you'll be at school...and he's more of a working dog. He helps me."

"Helps you? You mean I can't play with him?" Hope's face droops, her voice forlorn. Peeta draws her close for a hug.

"Of course you can, but when we're out he will be very focused and may not be as fun as you want him to be. But we'll still play." A smile creeps onto Hope's face and she runs her small hand through Rutger's fur again.

"I always wanted a puppy, Peeta," she says quietly, leaning back into him. "Will you stay with us every day so I can pretend he's mine too?"

Katniss' hand goes to her mouth. "Hope," she whispers between her fingers.

But when Peeta answers, it's Katniss he's looking at, not Hope. He holds her eyes, "Only if you'll have me."

Finnick clears his throat behind them. Peeta had all but forgotten they were there. Four pairs of eyes are trained on the three of them huddled around Rutger, Marcus and Rye with giant smiles, Finnick and Annie with curious ones. Peeta can feel the heat in his face that he sees on Katniss'. He stands, pulling Hope up into his arms, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness hits him. It's Finnick's hand on his shoulder that steadies him.

"So, who are these lovelies you have crawling all over you, Mellark?" Finnick says wryly, smirking at Peeta. "Finnick Odair," he adds, holding his hand out to Katniss before Peeta can get any words out. "It's a pleasure, and this is my wife, Annie," he says, releasing her hand and bringing his arm around Annie's waist. Annie takes Katniss' hand as they exchange quiet hello's.

"Finnick was the doc in my squad," Peeta tells Katniss. "He's pretty much the reason I'm still standing here today. Kept me from bleeding out that day."

Finnick grunts a noise to brush off Peeta's accolades and turns his attention to Hope. "And who is this lovely little princess? Your name can't possibly be Cupcake, can it?" Finn teases, causing Hope to giggle and hide her face in Peeta's shoulder. "You didn't tell me you had such beauties in your life, Peet."

"I haven't had much of a chance, Finn, with you off fighting a war and all." He pulls Katniss back into his side. "This is Katniss and Hope...or cupcake...and Rutger."

"Wow, a girl, a kid and a dog," Finnick says, whistling his approval. "You sure do work fast."

Finnick wags his eyebrows at Peeta in approval, a wide smile causing deep dimples to sink into his cheeks.

Marcus' voice rings out over everyone, though. "Okay, enough of this reunion, we have a business to run, why don't you all go back home, get Finnick and Annie settled, and Rye and I will finish up for the day." Marcus holds Peeta back after everyone begins to disperse and head for the door. "You sure you're ok, son?"

"Fine, Dad." Marcus nods, but Peeta can tell he's not convinced. The skepticism is blatant in his father's eyes. Peeta lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. "Really, Dad. I'm fine."

On the sidewalk Finnick is peppering Katniss with questions, which she artfully avoids. She doesn't know this man, though Peeta has talked about him some. She knows they are close, that he is almost ten years older than they are and that he is genuinely a good man. But she can tell that herself just by the concern that floods his eyes every time he looks at Peeta. Not that she can blame him. Peeta is acting more than a little "off" today. He seems confused, and every once in awhile he winces like he's in pain.

"So, let's go out tonight, all of us. Show us what this little town has to offer, Mellark. Who knows, we may want to stay."

Katniss' heart sinks a little. She'd never be able to find a babysitter for Hope this late in the day and she knows her sister is on shift at the hospital tonight. She looks down to Hope, who is running her hand through Rutger's fur, murmuring softly into his ear.

"You guys go on ahead. I need to get Hope home anyway." She squeezes Peeta's hand and turns to say goodbye, but Peeta stops her and leans down close to her ear.

"I don't feel like going out tonight. Let's stay in. Cook at home?" He tugs at her hair a little, rubbing it between his fingers. Home. Does he mean her place?

"Home?" she questions. She wishes there wasn't so much hope in her voice, but she just can't keep it out.

"Is that okay? We can get something from Sae, if that's easier and just spend some time at your place. That way we won't need to get a sitter and you can get to know Annie and Finnick." We. He just said we. Katniss' heart does a little flip inside her chest.

"Are you sure? I don't want to ruin things..."

Peeta cuts her off. "You never ruin anything." He kisses her temple and turns to Finnick and Annie. Katniss watches the amusement flash in Finnick's eyes, but he readily agrees, saying they've had a long drive anyway.

Katniss decides immediately that she likes Annie. She's quiet and subdued, especially when compared to Finnick's flamboyance, and Katniss can't help but wonder how they ever hooked up, let alone got married. They just seem so different. But there's no doubt in Katniss' mind that they are certainly in love. The way he looks at Annie steals Katniss' breath sometimes. What she wouldn't give to have someone look at her that way. Her eyes drift to Peeta seated in the other room with Finnick.

Annie had shooed the men out of the kitchen as soon as they brought up the food to Katniss' apartment.

"They need time together," she says when Katniss' looks at her strangely. "Finnick has wanted to come up here since he got home. I think he just needed to see Peeta for himself. See that he was okay in person, you know?"

"They have talked since Peeta came home though, right?" Katniss asks, slightly confused.

"Yeah, but Finnick hasn't actually seen him since they put him on the flight to Germany after his injury. It was a hard day for everyone, but Finnick especially." Annie's eyes flicker to Katniss' and then pause. "He hasn't told you about that day?" It's more statement than question, but Katniss shakes her head.

"He won't talk about it," she says flatly.

"No, I suppose it's hard for him. Finnick has only told me bits and pieces. He was supposed to be on that patrol as the medic. He usually went with the squad, but that day he didn't. The guilt weighs on him. Somehow Peeta was able to radio in after the first shots were fired. Luckily, Finnick and the rest of the guys were able to get there in time to get Peeta out after the explosions. He was in bad shape. Finnick said they lost him a couple of times... I think he just needed to see Peeta in the flesh to know he really is okay you know? They've always been close." She pauses again as if to decide what else, if anything, to say. "He'll tell you in time. He cares for you a great deal. I've known him for almost six years now and I've never seen him act with a woman as he does with you."

Katniss can feel the heat rise in her face. She looks down and busies herself plating food for Hope and Peeta.

"And someone is definitely in love," Annie says. Katniss' head snaps up fully expecting to find Annie looking at her, but her eyes are trained on the other room where Hope sits on Peeta's lap, her little hands pressed to the sides of his face, deep in conversation.

Katniss clears her throat. Why is her heart beating so fast?

"Yes, Hope is most certainly attached."

Annie chuckles, turning knowing eyes to Katniss. "Yes, but I think he's rather attached, too."

Annie's observations stick with Katniss all the way through dinner and after as they sit in the living room chatting while having a few beers after Hope is tucked into bed. She tries to concentrate on the conversation around her, but she finds it increasingly difficult. They are all becoming attached, aren't they? What does it mean? She turns the idea over and over in her head, looking at each angle. Each time her thoughts head toward love she backs off. It hasn't been long enough for love. But when she looks ahead, she can't imagine a life without him.

With everything that happened with Hope's father she knows she is a little gun shy, but she also can't help the pull she feels with Peeta. The longing. The need.

Is that love? Is she in love with him?

Every day that passes the feeling grows, that little thread that seems to bind them tightening, pulling them closer together. Sitting here with his friends she sees glimpses of the boy she knew. He's comfortable with them, something she has seen very little of lately. Since he's been back they have been living in a kind of bubble almost, not really venturing outside the confines of his family and hers, spending most of their free time right here in her living room. It's nice seeing him happy, seeing him comfortable with his friends.

Katniss leans into him, drawing her legs up under herself. His arm automatically slides across her shoulders, pulling her closer into his side. He's warm, but what concerns her more is the fact that he's shaking slightly.

"You feeling ok?" she whispers into his ear, slipping her fingers through his, alarmed at the way they shake between hers.

"I think I'm going to switch to water. My head's feeling a little weird. Like bolts of electricity are firing in my brain."

Katniss' eyes widen. That doesn't sound good at all. She brings a hand up to cup his face. He leans into it, turning so he can kiss her palm.

"I'm sure it's nothing. I'll be right back. You guys need another?" He turns to Finnick and Annie, wobbling slightly as he stands. Katniss watches as he presses his hand to the arm of the couch to stabilize himself, knuckles turning white from the pressure of his grip. She stands and follows him to the kitchen.

He sways and wobbles on his long legs the short distance to the kitchen, his right hand grasping for anything to stabilize himself along the way, while his left rubs insistently at the base of his skull. Katniss reaches out to him, but isn't quick enough. He stumbles over the edge of the tile, his legs giving out and he crashes to the floor, his head smacking the tile with a sickening thud.

The blood freezes in Katniss' veins. She turns to call for Finnick, but he's already launched himself over the back of the couch, is at her side and kneeling over Peeta in mere seconds, checking his pulse, his breathing and then lifting his eyelids.

"Get me a cold cloth for his head, Annie." Finnck checks Peeta's head. "He's not bleeding. That's good, but I can already feel a lump. Come on, buddy," he says as Annie hands him the cloth. He lays it over the bump on the side of his head. Peeta's eyes flicker open slowl. He moans softly. Katniss releases a breath she didn't know she was holding and collapses onto his chest, murmuring his name over and over again.

Finnick lets out a shaky laugh. "Seriously, Mellark. This unconscious thing is becoming a habit with you and me. I can't be saving your life every time we're together."

Peeta chokes out a laugh, his hand weaving into Katniss' hair. "I'm okay. Just a little dizzy."

"I'll say. You wanna tell me what the hell is going on with you? Should I take you to the hospital?" Finnick questions.

Peeta tries to sit up, but doesn't make it far before he groans and has to lie back down. "No. I'm okay. Maybe we should just head back home."

Katniss jerks her head up, her eyes boring into him. When she speaks her voice is firm and unyielding. "You're not going anywhere. You're staying here. I'm not letting you out of my sight. Jesus Christ, Peeta. You scared the life out of me." She turns to Finnick and Annie. "You guys can stay here if you want. I'd actually feel better if you did…in case this moron does this again…I've got a pull-out couch in my office you can have. But he's not going anywhere. No way."

Peeta lifts his hand to her face to wipe a tear that escaped her eye. "I'm alright."

But it's all too much. Everything. She can't quiet her heart. It's screaming at her. She's the one shaking now. She's the one walking on wobbly legs as she follows Finnick and Peeta back to her bedroom.

Finnick leaves them, excusing himself to get their bags from the car. Katniss crawls onto the bed next to Peeta and buries her head in the crook of his neck.

"Don't do that again, Peeta."

Low laughter rumbles through him. "I just got dizzy and then hit my head. It was nothing."

A hot wave of anger bubbles up inside her. She scrambles to her knees, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt over his heart in an attempt to still her trembling hands.

"It's not funny and it _was_ something," she hisses, trying to be quiet. "I'm scared. That scared me so much. I did a little research on those pills you were taking and what I read wasn't good…seizures…death even, Peeta." She leans her forehead on his chest again. "I don't want to lose you. Peeta, I…." _love you. _Shear fear chokes the words back. She doesn't doubt them, though. Not now. Not now when her heart is still thrumming in her ears, her chest too tight. She shakes her head, trying to clear it.

Katniss peers up at him, wondering if he heard the words that are screaming inside her head. His eyes are wide. He pulls her back up to him and fastens his mouth to hers.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says quietly, leaning his forehead against hers, stroking the side of her face with the backs of his fingers. "You're stuck with me now."

* * *

_Again, I'm sorry for the wait. Real life has been kicking me in the ass lately. I hope you enjoyed this, though. Please review and let me know if you liked it or not. I appreciate everything you have to say._

_You can find me on tumblr, too. ofdustandstars._

_Thank you, katnissinme for your stellar beta work._


	12. Chapter 12

"You want me to do what?" Peeta asks Dr. Aurelius, his eyes wide with disbelief, hands stuffed in his pockets. They are standing in front of the doctor's old beat up Ford F-150 in the driveway of his office, Rutger at Peeta's motionless feet. There's no way he's getting in that truck.

"It's only a few miles, Peeta."

"It's not safe, Doc," Peeta says, rubbing his hand furiously through the couple days' growth of beard on his face. It's itchy and he needs a shave, but his hands hadn't really been all that steady over the last few days. Katniss had offered to shave his face for him, but he'd said he'd wanted to try it out. Why not? He's never grown a beard before. Now he remembers why. "I can't drive yet."

"Yes, you can. It's why we have been taking all these little trips around town for the last month, Peeta. To get you used to being in a car again. You can do this. It's time."

Exposure therapy. That's what Dr. Aurelius had called it. Peeta's first reaction had been anything but pleasant. Kind of like the reaction he was having now.

_"What? Do you want to send me back to a war zone or something? Expose me to that again...because I can handle a war," he had said, the petulant tone in his voice rivaling that of Hope's._

_"No." Dr. Aurelius unprofessionally rolled his eyes. "Because obviously, I can't do that, and also, because war is your normal. You are look for war here where it is abnormal and that is exactly the reason why you are having so much trouble adjusting to being home. You're unconsciously looking for a war in your everyday life and it's..."_

_"Making me crazy," Peeta finished for him. _

"What about the dizziness I've been dealing with the last couple of days?" he asks, pulling his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Did you not just tell me, not ten minutes ago, that you were feeling much better? That the script for Wellbutrin was helping with the withdrawals and you were not experiencing the dizziness like you did the other day?" Dr. Aurelius lifts his eyebrows in challenge. "In fact, I believe your exact words were 'back to normal'."

Peeta's face falls and he huffs out a breath. He's stalling, being ridiculous. He knows it. Dr. Aurelius knows it. He'd even go so far as to say Rutger knows it. He leans down to pat Rut's head, avoiding Dr. Aurelius penetrating stare. Because he has been okay. He's had no dizziness for at least twenty-four hours. He's out of excuses.

He has Katniss to thank for that. After his fall in her kitchen, he was still completely set on riding out the withdrawal symptoms, no matter what happened. But it was the look in her eyes and the pleading in her voice that changed his mind - not to mention her tears.

_"I'm scared, Peeta," she had said, her voice cracking through the darkness of the bedroom as she pulled the covers over them and settled herself on her side, facing him, head sinking into her pillow. There was just enough moonlight shimmering over her face that he could see the tears pooling in her silver eyes, making the irises look closer to mercury than he'd ever seen them. "I don't want to lose you. Not now...not ever, and maybe I'm overreacting and nothing will happen, but do you really want to take that chance? You just cracked your head on my kitchen floor, Peeta. What if you had been a few inches more to the left and had cracked it on the corner of the counter? You would have hit it so hard it could have split your head open." She paused, searching his face, her fingers brushing ever so lightly over the lump on his head. "Or what if you had been holding Hope?"_

_He had wanted to argue with her. Tell her he was fine. That he could handle it. But he couldn't find any words; the emotion in her voice drained any stubbornness in him away. He reached up and wiped the tear that had escaped her eye from her cheek._

_"But..." he started, his fingers moving over the soft curve of her bare shoulder, his thoughts marred in the want and need to be doing something other than talking about his fucked up head. She stopped him by laying a finger over his mouth._

_"I'll wait, Peeta." She leaned in, fitting her mouth to his. "I'll wait," she repeated again against his mouth. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep his own tears from falling. "You mean more to me than just sex, Peeta. You have to know that by now," she said, pulling back from him slightly. His eyes flickered open at the loss of contact. He moved his hand to the back of her head, pulling her back to him, but she resisted and fixed her eyes on him. "I want you to call your doctor tomorrow and have him prescribe something to help you through the withdrawal," she said, pausing to search his face. "Please."_

_It wasn't until he nodded his assent that she allowed him to kiss her again. He didn't think he'd ever be able to deny her anything. Especially when they were tangled together in bed. But he knew she was right. He couldn't take any chances. Not now that he had them to come home to._

Peeta sighs, knowing he has no excuse not to get into the truck and drive. He needs to get this over with so he can get home to Katniss. He's done nothing but think about her all day since he woke up with morning wood - finally. The old anti-depressants had finally cleared his system; the Wellbutrin was working without any sexual side effects as Dr. Aurelius had said and he wants nothing more than to go home and bury himself inside Katniss for a few hours...or days...if he has his way.

After Rutger jumps into the truck, Peeta slides behind the wheel and Dr. Aurelius gets in the passenger side. He can't keep his hand from shaking as he turns the ignition any more than he can keep his stomach from flipping over as he puts the truck in reverse and backs out of the driveway. He takes a deep breath before backing onto the road.

"You know where Sugar Mountain Farms is, right?" Dr. Aurielus asks as Peeta presses the gas. He nods, unable to get any words past the lump in his throat.

"Good, then you know 151 is nothing more than a sleepy old country road. Just a few miles. I have faith in you, Peeta. You have nothing to worry about."

Peeta wasn't so sure he held the same confidence in himself. When Rutger lays his head in Peeta's lap, he tries his hardest to concentrate on the comfort the dog is offering. After a while he is actually able to loosen his grip on the steering wheel enough so his knuckles are merely pink and not the stark white they were when he first grasped the wheel. And really, Dr. Aurelius helps by keeping up mundane conversation that also reminds him that he is indeed in Twelve Oaks, Ohio. Not Afghanistan.

By the time the ten minute trip is over and they pull onto the long driveway that leads to Sugar Mountain Farms, Peeta feels more confident. His neck is still pulsing with tension and his jaw feels like it's being stabbed from being clenched so tight, but they made it in one piece.

It feels like a win to him.

Peeta pries his fingers from the steering wheel. They creak with stiffness as he straightens and flexes them a few times, trying to work the ache from them. Gingerly, he steps from the truck onto wobbly legs. What the fuck is wrong with him? Seriously, it's just a fucking truck. He feels like such a god damned pussy. It wasn't all that long ago that he and his high school friends would race these back roads in his father's old GTO. Now he can't get into one without breaking out into a cold sweat. He knows these roads like the back of his hand. This is his home. Logically, he knows there are no roadside IEDs or snipers waiting in the trees, but his body and his mind are not reacting logically. Pussy. That's what he is.

He sighs, pulling in as much of the fresh spring air as he can, filling his lungs to capacity and releasing it slowly, then leans back against to truck as he listens to Dr. Aurelius greet the owner of Sugar Mountain Farms. He just needs a minute to compose himself and shake out the nerves that still linger from the drive and retrieve some of his broken ego.

Rutger comes to stand by him, leaning slightly against Peeta's leg as if giving comfort. He will miss the dog when he goes back to Dr. Aurelius. Peeta pats Rut's head and pushes himself off the truck and heads over to where the doctor and trainer are standing in the driveway, Rutger close at his side.

Dr. Aurelius introduces the owner as Portia Clark. She gives Peeta a warm smile and extends her hand to him. When he grasps it, she gives a firm, brief shake and then kneels to take Rutger's paw.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Peeta," she says warmly, her chocolate eyes sparkling. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about which dog to place with you and I have some ideas, but first I'd like you to take some time with the dogs to see if maybe one stands out to you."

Portia motions to a fenced-in portion of the field beside a large red barn. There are several dogs lying in the grass, tails thumping the ground, and a few playing in a pile in the sun. They seem slightly younger than the rest as they nip and tug at each other's ears. But there is one that does catch his eye almost immediately. The dog's fur is light - almost white - with floppy ears and a short nose. It's not really the look of her that catches his attention, though. No, it's the way she chases a white butterfly around the field, bouncing through the grass, nipping at the air, always so close to catching the fluttering butterfly, but never quite fast enough. He can perfectly imagine Hope playing with this dog in his back yard. Both of them chasing butterflies in the sunshine on a flawless spring day like today. He walks to the fence and leans on it. The dog stops its chase and looks over to him, ears perking.

"Go on in," Portia says, opening the gate for him. Peeta spends some time looking over the dogs with her. They all seem like perfectly good working dogs, completing every task Portia asks them to do, but he always seems to come back to the dog he first saw chasing the butterflies. He likes that she has a playful side, but can easily get back on task with just one word.

He walks back over to her, calling her to him. He didn't expect the decision to be this easy. He figured it would take hours, but this is the dog. She walks to him, sitting calmly in front of him as if she hadn't just been bounding through the field on a great hunt, and waits for him. To do what, he doesn't know. Peeta kneels in front of her and holds his hand out to her as he does with Rutger." I had a feeling she would be a good fit for you, Peeta," Portia says quietly as she comes to stand next to him. "This is Maggie. She's an excellent working dog, but she is also young and likes to play. She is excellent with children. Do you have kids, Peeta?"

Peeta feels the smile stretch his mouth. He runs his hand through the fur on Maggie's head. "Not officially," he says squinting up at Portia through the midday sun. "But I have one in my life, yes."

Maybe he should take more time with the other dogs, but there is just something about this one that he really likes. Plus, he knows Hope would really love her. After all, they can play together and hadn't that been the first thing Hope had asked about? He chuckles to himself and shakes his head. It seems like no matter what he's doing, everything always circles back to Katniss and Hope these days.

Rutger nudges Peeta's hand, his wet nose sliding over his palm, bringing him out of his thoughts. His face heats when he realizes Portia has been talking to him. Something about training times. He nods, trying to cover the fact that he zoned out on her. She gives him a knowing smile and rests her hand on Dr. Aurelius' arm.

"Jacob has all the information. We'll figure out times to train and get you used to each other. Go ahead and spend some time together, and Jacob and I will talk over some things in the meantime."

Peeta gives her an apologetic smile as she and the doctor turn to walk over to the patio of the house, leaving him alone with two dogs. Peeta kneels before Maggie.

"What do ya think, Rut? You think Maggie is a good choice?" Rutger nudges himself under Peeta's hand, tail thumping the ground.

* * *

Dr. Aurelius didn't push Peeta to drive on the way back to the bakery, most likely sensing his mind was elsewhere. And it was. He strokes the space between Rutger's ears, making the dog's head lilt to the side, as he stares out the window at the passing trees. Peeta will be sorry to let Rutger go. He's grown very attached to the golden in just the few days since he's been with him. But he's pretty confident Maggie will be a good fit too. And he can't wait to see Hope's reaction to her.

The truck jerks to a stop outside the bakery. Dr. Aurelius says his goodbyes telling Peeta how well he thought he did today, but his words barely register with Peeta. He can't tear his eyes away from the woman across the street. Katniss stands, bent over the large planter in front of the café planting flowers, a green cotton tank top stretched over her back. But what really holds his attention are the little grey cotton shorts straining to barely cover her ass. _Damn._ He glances around the street and is relieved to see he's the only one staring.

He jogs across the street, unable to keep his eyes off her. When he gets close enough he hears her humming along to whatever tune is playing through her headphones, completely oblivious to everything around her. It's one of the things he's come to love about her since they've started spending so much time together – the way she gets lost in a song. And sometimes, when she doesn't know anyone can hear, she sings real and true, the iridescent tones ringing through the air. She is breathtaking in those moments.

Peeta keeps his distance as he comes up behind her, admiring the view of her perfectly shaped ass swaying to the beat of the music. She doesn't even realize he's standing behind her until Rutger nudges her thigh with his nose. In the last few days that they've practically been living with Katniss, Rutger has gotten very fond of Katniss.

"Well, hello there, Rut!" she says, bending down to hug his neck. She nuzzles him, murmuring into his fur.

"Hey, what about me?" Peeta whines, tugging on the end of her braid trying to get her to stand back up.

"Are you feeling left out?" she asks innocently, shading her eyes with her hand as she looks up at him before slowly standing up and inching into him. "Do you need me to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, too?"

"Yes, please." It comes out as more of a growl than anything else. She giggles – actually giggles – when the stubble on his chin brushes against her neck. Then she pushes him away, playfully.

"I have dirt all over me and I'm sweaty."

"I like dirty girls," he says, reaching for her, tugging her close.

"I bet you do," she says wryly but reaches up to push his hair off his forehead anyway. "How'd your session go today?"

Peeta rolls his eyes and frowns a little, shrugging. "More exposure therapy…but I drove and nothing exploded, so it's all good." Then he smiles brightly. "But the best part is, I picked out a dog. Hope is going to love her."

Katniss leans back against the planter, something passes through her eyes that he can't quite read, but she keeps her eyes steadily on his for a moment before they flit away and she clears her throat.

"So, are you coming back tonight?"

He steps into her, one of his knees sliding between hers, and lifts her chin. "Are you still going to be wearing those little shorts?" he says, eyes darting between her eyes and her bare legs.

"Maybe…" Katniss lets the rest hang and waggles her eyebrow. He likes this flirty side of her and lets her know by kissing her full and hard on the mouth before backing away.

"I'll be back…in like five minutes… fifteen at the latest I swear…" he says, praying he doesn't trip over the curb as he walks backwards across the street because he really can't look away from her.

"Sure, sure." Laughing, she waves him off, picking up another pallet of flowers for the planter. "Go to work. I'll see you later."

His dad and Finnick stop their conversation when he enters, probably wondering why he has such a stupid grin plastered on his face. Finnick has been helping out around the bakery in Peeta's absence, mostly out front. The sales for the week have been through the roof. He's asked Finnick how long he and Annie are planning to stay in Twelve Oaks, but Finn has continued to brush the question off, saying he doesn't know or saying they'll stay until Marcus kicks him out. If business stays how it's been with him behind the counter, Marcus may ask him to move in.

"How'd it go, Peet?" Marcus asks, his voice light, eyebrows quirked. "You pick out a dog?"

"It went well, Dad. I got a dog and I drove for the first time."

"Good, good. Sounds like progress," Marcus says, handing him an envelope.

"So why do you have that dopey look on your face?" Finn interrupts, coming out from behind the counter and going to the window. Peeta hangs his head, waiting for the onslaught of jabs he knows is coming. But he can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Ahh, I see. Could that dopey look be from the lovely Miss Everdeen I see, elbow deep in flowers?"

Peeta distracts himself from the jabs Finnick - and now Rye who appeared from the kitchen - throw around by sliding his finger under the edge of the envelope his father just gave him.

"You got a little dirt here, little brother," Rye says swiping his finger down Peeta's temple where Katniss brushed his hair away. Peeta shoves him away, trying to concentrate on the letter in his hand.

It's a personal letter with a return address of Fresno, California. He only knows one person from Fresno – Seeder. He's anxious to read the letter, hoping maybe he's writing to say he'll be out this way soon, as they had always planned when Seeder didn't reenlist after his last tour was finished. He just doesn't understand why Seeder wrote a hand written letter instead of email. Probably because Peeta never reads his email. Come to think of it, the last time Peeta checked his email he had a couple from Seeder that he never read. He'd forgotten about them.

The laughter and noise around him is drowned out by the dull roar that fills his head as he scans the letter. It's not from Seeder, but from Seeder's mother instead.

He has to read the letter twice before it sinks in.

_Seeder took his own life last week._

That one line plays itself over and over inside Peeta's head. He has to swallow back the bile that has suddenly found its way up his throat.

Suicide.

He holds the letter out to Finnick, who has become silent at the look covering Peeta's face.

It's funny how abruptly a mood can change. Peeta watches the confused glances turn to somber, blank stares as the letter is read by Finn, his father and then his brother. The latter two never met Seeder, but they'd heard Peeta speak of him often. Finnick, on the other hand, had been just as close with Seeder as Peeta had been. The three of them had been almost inseparable when they were stationed together. The rush of guilt Peeta feels at not having answered those emails or picked up the damn phone to call him floods him and has him standing so quickly he knocks the chair over behind him.

"I have to get out of here." He turns on his heels and heads out the door with Finnick quickly behind him.

He stops briefly outside the door, partly to allow Finn to catch up and partly to watch Katniss across the street. He sighs, hand rubbing at his temples. He wants nothing more than to go over to Katniss and take her in his arms – feel her – let her ground him, but he can't. He can't burden her with this right now. He needs to get his thoughts together first, because he's afraid if he goes over there right now he'd fall apart and it seems Katniss is always putting him back together these days.

He turns and heads away from her.

They walk silently around the corner and into the VFW. The bar is quiet. It's too late for the lunch crowd, but too early for the dinner rush. A few guys sit at the bar watching the baseball game and nod their heads as Peeta and Finnick get their beers. They take their beers and settle into a booth at the back of the bar.

Finnick is the first to break the suffocating silence. "Remember that time in Paris when Seeder got thrown out of that bar for hitting on that cute little redheaded waitress?"

Peeta chuckles. "Yeah – the one who had a boyfriend the size of a grizzly bear? Who could forget? And what about that time in London when he wouldn't shut his mouth over that stupid soccer – excuse me – _football_ game."

And that's how it starts. Somehow remembering the good keeps the sadness at bay. They spend the next couple hours reminiscing about the man with a charming smile and an uncanny knack for letting his mouth get him in trouble. He'd been an honorable man. A good friend. Suicide just seems so out of character.

"Why do you think he did it?" Peeta asks as the conversation dies down and they are left staring into their beers. He swirls the white foam head around the glass, then finishes off the rest.

Finnick shrugs, not looking up.

"I should have called him. Shoulda at least emailed him…I was just too caught up in my own problems…I should have done something." Peeta pauses, looking at the man across the table from him. "How do you do it, man? How do you keep it together? It's been a fucking nightmare since I got out. You…you seem to be handling everything fine."

"I don't know. After everything I've seen over the last twenty years, Peet, I don't have a choice. I think if I ever let myself fall apart, I'd never be able to put myself back together."

A shadow appears over the table and Peeta looks up from his beer. Haymitch stands over their table with two more beers and a tumbler of whiskey in his hands.

"Drowning your sorrows again, kid?" The look Peeta shoots the older man has his brows drawing together in a scowl he's seen many times on Katniss' face. It's the first time Peeta has seen any resemblance between the two. Haymitch takes the hint, however, and sets the glasses on the table and pulls up a chair. "What's going on, kid? Who's your friend?"

Peeta introduces Finnick. He debates whether to let Haymitch in on Seeder but decides to tell him anyway. He's not exactly sure why he chose to do so, just that it felt right. Like Haymitch might understand.

"Suicide is tough to handle. I knew a couple guys who did it back in the day, too," Haymitch pauses, as if gathering his thoughts. "It's like you can't believe they did it, but at the same time you completely understand it."

That's it exactly. It's like a paradox of understanding, disbelief and anger. Peeta thinks back on all the times he's wished himself dead over the last six months. Yeah, he understands not wanting to go on, but to actually do it? That he doesn't understand.

"You know, it's more common than you would think," Haymitch continues. "I read that something like twenty-two vets take their own lives every day."

That number stuns Peeta. He looks over to Finnick and sees the same stunned expression he feels on his own face.

"Holy shit! Isn't anyone doing anything?"

"Ah, well, you know the VA. They talk a good game, but…" Haymitch trails off. It doesn't need to be said. Peeta has been there. Hell, he still_ is _there. They send you home with a medicine cabinet full of pills with side effects worse than the actual symptoms - some with suicide as a side effect. How is that okay? Had Seeder been on one of those cocktails?

"That's bullshit," Peeta says.

"Did you expect anything more?" Finnick replies. Peeta shrugs.

"There are other private organizations that do good work, like Wounded Warriors or even the VFW in some ways, but guys have to want help," Haymitch adds. "You can't force them well. They have to want it."

Peeta thinks back to those emails from Seeder again and another tsunami of guilt washes over him. He should have done something. Seeder didn't really have anyone outside of his mother. Finnick and he were the closest friends he had and they failed him. He looks at Finn, thankful he's here with him. And then he's got his father and brothers. Hell, he's even thankful he has Haymitch – as surly a bastard that he is. Of course he doesn't forget Katniss and Hope. They, more than anyone have gotten him through everything. Who did Seeder have?

He swallows the last of his beer and thanks Haymitch. "I need to get home," he says then looks to Finnick. "You ready?"

It much darker than he realized when they step out of the windowless bar. Peeta pulls his phone from his pocket to look at the time. He winces. He probably shouldn't disturb Katniss this late, but he needs to see her. As the Café comes into view, he sighs with relief when he sees the light in her office is still on.

Finnick unlocks the truck's doors but pauses when Peeta doesn't move to get in. "You coming?" he asks, leaning over the hood of the truck.

"I think I'm gonna..." he gestures to Katniss apartment. Finnick gives him a knowing look and drops his voice when he speaks.

"So, this thing with you and Katniss…it's pretty serious." It's not even a question, really. More of a statement, but Peeta answers anyway.

"Yeah, it is."

"Okay, then. I'll see you tomorrow." Finnick knocks two times on the hood and then slides in and drives away leaving Peeta on the sidewalk, staring at the light in Katniss' window.

Sae is just locking up, but she tells him to go on up. It's quiet when he reaches the top of the stairs. He knocks softly before turning the door handle. He finds her asleep on her bed, dark-rimmed reading glasses still perched on the end of her nose, an open book played across her t-shirt covered chest. The knot that had wound itself tightly in his gut loosens at the sight of her. He needs her.

She doesn't wake. Not when he brushes the hair from her forehead. Not when he presses his lips to her temple. Not even when he rids himself of his pants and slips beneath the blanket. It's only when he pulls her body into his, planting long, sensual, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and neck that she begins to stir.

"Hey," she half yawns, half speaks, her voice husky beneath the veil of sleep. "I wasn't sure if you were coming by tonight. I guess I fell asleep."

Peeta sends up a silent prayer when he feels himself begin to stiffen. He needs this. God, how he needs to feel something other than the utter swamping guilt and sadness he's felt ever since he opened that letter four hours earlier. He just wants to sink into her - forget for just a few minutes before he has to face it all over again, because he knows he has to tell her. He has to talk to her. Get this toxic feeling in the pit of his stomach out before it consumes him. But right now he wants to forget.

He slides his hand up her shirt. She shudders as his calloused hands skim the tender skin of her ribcage and then sighs against him when his hand finds the swell of her breast.

"I need you," he whispers against her ear, pressing himself against her.

His hands roam every inch of her body. There is urgency pulsing around him, making the air buzz and throb. He's quick to pull off her clothes, fitting his mouth to one succulent breast and then the other, hand moving down circle her clit. Her eyes are still foggy from sleep, but they clear rather quickly when his fingers sink into her. She's ready for him already. He moves on top of her, pressing her legs open so he can fit himself against her. He's rigid and on the verge of losing control.

Her legs tighten on his hips, holding him back a little, her hands press against his chest. "Peeta."

Katniss cradles his face between her hands and forces him to meet her eyes for the first time.

"Peeta," she says, watching him struggle for control. "Slow down. What's going on?"

"I just…." He pauses, Adam's apple bobbing sharply in his throat as he swallows. "I just need you."

"I'm right here," Katniss says softly, stroking his face. "I'm not going anywhere."

He leans his forehead against hers and squeezes his eyes shut, her words forcing him to focus. She deserves better than this. Better than this frantic emotion he seems to be stuck in. Peeta takes a few deep breaths, letting the sweet vanilla scent she wears calm him. It seems like he's been waiting an eternity for this, he can't ruin it now.

"Sorry," he says after he's settled some. "Hi."

"Hi."

It's then that his touch turns soft. He's gentle, making sure to take his time with kisses that are less hurried, less desperate, but no less intense. This is better. He can savor this moment this way.

His teeth graze over her bottom lip, pulling slightly as he slides his cock over her folds, coating himself in her arousal. Her eyes flutter open at the sensation.

"I need you," he says, sounding way more intense than he intended, suddenly feeling like he's on the precipice of something huge. It's possible his eyes betray his thoughts because Katniss' eyes turn molten. "I need you, Katniss."

And then he slides into her, moving slowly until their hips are flush. God, she feels like she was made for him, so tight and soft. Perfect. A delicate sigh drifts from her lips and he takes her hand in his, weaving their fingers together. Katniss shifts beneath him, moving her leg up over his hips. The new angle allows him to sink deeper into her. His head falls to her shoulder, a resounding moan rumbling out of him.

Peeta has spent a good portion of his life imagining this moment happening in a million different ways, but he can admit that he never imagined it would be this intense. The air sizzles and pops around them and then shrinks as they meld together. He's honestly never felt anything like it before. The implications of that are not lost on him.

Whether it's the emotion of the day or simply the fact that it's Katniss beneath him, he doesn't know. He only knows he would gladly stay right here, deep inside her forever if her could.

He can feel her quickening beneath him, tightening around his cock, breath coming in faster, leg falling limply to the bed. He hooks his free arm under her knee and lifts it up into a slightly new position, one that drives him somehow impossibly deeper, causing them both to cry out as her walls clench and unclench around him with each thrust. Peeta has no choice to quicken the pace, his body racing towards release.

The feel of her hands splayed across his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh only spurns him on, but it's not until he feels her contract around him, shuddering from her release does he let himself spill into her.

_Holy God._

* * *

_Author Note:_

_I apologize again for the delay. Life is hard and it gets in my way. _

_Please leave feedback. You know I love to hear everything you have to say._

_Also, thank you, Court, for your speedy beta work. You are amazing._


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